The Chameleon
There were two highly coveted jobs to have post high school in Las Vegas, where big money could be made immediately with virtually no experience. If you told people you were working one of them it was likely the next question would be, “How’d you get it?” Most of the time it was because you knew someone—you got juiced in. Those hot occupations? Valet parking and cocktails.
I considered myself very lucky to spend a summer working cocktails at the Western Village Casino. I made a lot of cash—usually $75-$100 a day. It was 1983 and that was huge money. The uniform was a take on the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders outfit: short skirt, cropped, fringed vest, white cowboy boots. There wasn’t much of me that remained a mystery, but having lost my Freshman Fifteen I felt comfortable enough. It was physically the toughest job I’ve ever had. Carrying those trays of drinks—loading them up to avoid multiple trips. Walking for miles around the casino floor in uncomfortable shoes while using a sing-songy voice to repeat, “Cocktails?” A permanent carefree smile was required even as the feet throbbed. Putting up with the Friday night drunks who came to cash their paychecks and listen to live country/western music in the lounge was simply part of the job. There was a massive level of coordination necessary to balance a full tray of glasses and bottles without spilling, while maneuvering a crowded bar and sidestepping a nightly grope–or five. There were always those who would grab the brand of beer they’d ordered from the tray without realizing the weight was strategically resting on my palm.
Don’t ever take anything from a server’s tray.
That job taught me what I didn’t want to do for the rest of my life but also made me forever respectful of the hard work of servers–and certainly some of the indignities they experience.
I met Ira for a drink on our first date–tall, nice looking, an Ivy League law degree and a hugely successful practice. He was a litigator for big award lawsuits and proud of his lucrative career and all the accouterments of a rich attorney’s life. He was brilliant and had a sarcastic sense of humor that was self-effacing.
It was a quick first date, but I felt a bit of chemistry brewing—enough to warrant a second one.
He’s a nice guy, I thought after that first night.
We met for dinner a few days later at Alouette, a French bistro in my neighborhood. It was a charming restaurant with a relaxed ambiance and excellent food. The wait staff was warm and efficient and I settled in as we shared a bottle of wine and light conversation.
The evening was just getting started.
On our first date I’d told Ira about the blog. Eventually our casual chat became a bit more serious as he brought up my writing. I tensed up, as I always do. I’ve learned to accept criticism as part of the process, but it is never easy and my defenses are always on high alert.
It’s a funny thing that everyone’s an expert when it comes to writing.
He talked about how much he’d enjoyed reading my posts and that he thought I was an excellent at what I did. I felt my insides relax a little. I’m sure it showed on my face. The server approached the table and unobtrusively poured more wine and then paused, I believe to take our order. Ira waved him away without glancing in his direction. I didn’t like that and thanked the waiter for the wine and asked that he give us a few more minutes.
Ira continued to wax poetic about my mad writing skills. I felt myself relaxing into his words. Music to a novice writer’s ear, and my annoyance at his pompous treatment of our waiter began to fade. Shamefully, professional flattery is my Kryptonite. The server waited about fifteen minutes and then approached again. Ira was in the middle of a story and he continued to talk while the waiter stood patiently waiting. I interrupted Ira and told him we should order.
We’d had plenty of time to look at the menu. We had even discussed what we were ordering yet Ira, once again, dismissively told the waiter to come back as he’d not decided. At that point we had been at the table for 30 minutes and I told Ira that I was hungry and asked that he choose quickly.
Finally, we ordered.
Ira continued to monopolize the conversation and a funny thing happened. His face changed and he delivered the first verbal punch.
“I find some of the things you’ve written to be distasteful—inappropriate.”
I asked for an example.
“I don’t want to read about the sex you had with your husband when he was undergoing chemo.”
He was referring to the blog post, The Fun Factor.
“That was important. I wanted the reader to understand my relationship with my husband. How much fun we had even when he was sick. I wanted them to know the history of my life with Neal—why it will be hard to replace him—the stuff I’m looking for again.”
“I was embarrassed for you.”
“Well, you’re one reader. Many others loved that part of the post. Whatever.”
Ira didn’t like that I dismissed his opinion.
He raised his voice slightly and told me again how inappropriate it was to share. Other patrons glanced in our direction and I saw our waiter watching from the side of the room.
“Don’t you raise your voice to me. I write what I want to write. If you don’t like it, don’t read it but you’re not going to bully me. Something tells me you can be a bully.”
Ira confirmed that he was used to having his opinion respected and that he was sometimes a tad rude in his delivery. “An occupational hazard when you’re the best at what you do,” he replied.
I should’ve left. I don’t know why I didn’t but the rest of the meal was filled with several tense moments where he shared an opinion on a topic, I disagreed and he got angry but then caught himself and adjusted his behavior, but inside I could tell he was seething.
After dinner, Ira suggested dessert. I didn’t want to spend another moment with him and declined. He ordered it anyway and asked for two forks. He also ordered an espresso. By that time we were one of the few occupied tables in the restaurant.
The server brought our dessert and Ira let it sit on the table untouched for at least fifteen minutes. I could see our server watching and waiting patiently. We were now the only occupied table.
“They’re trying to close the place. We should finish dessert and let them.” I told him quietly.
He ignored me and continued to sip his coffee. I had a few bites of dessert to prompt him to do the same and finally, our meal was over. I expected Ira to ask for the bill. He had other plans.
He ordered another espresso.
I don’t know if he was intentionally screwing with the server or me or if he was trying to drag out the date since he knew that I wanted to get away from him. I could see a look cross our waiter’s face when Ira ordered the second coffee, but he respectfully said, “Of course.” I told him he could bring the bill when he brought the coffee.
Ira took forever to finish, but FINALLY the bill was paid and we made our way towards the exit.
“Excuse me, excuse me,” I heard behind us as we’d almost reached the door. Ira and I turned to see our waiter behind us.
“Yes?” I said.
“Did I do something wrong? Were you unhappy with the food or my service?”
“No, the food was wonderful and your service was perfect. Why?” I said, shocked by his question.
“Because of this,” he said as he showed me the bill.
Ira was defensive. “I paid the bill.”
“Sir, it wasn’t the bill, but my tip.”
I glanced at the tip he’d left and felt instantly sick to my stomach. Our bill came to $149 and Ira had left a $7 tip.
“What were you thinking?” I said. His service was impeccable. “Don’t worry,” I said to the waiter, “You’ll be given the right tip. Either he’s going to do it or I will.”
“Pay him.” I said to Ira in a tone that left no alternative.
Ira pulled out his money clip and peeled off a ten-dollar bill and threw it on the tray with the check.
“No, that’s not enough.”
“It’s a seventeen dollar tip!” Ira said incredulously.
“On a hundred and fifty dollar bill not even close to being enough. Give him more, a twenty.”
Ira sheepishly pulled a twenty-dollar bill from the wad and threw it on the tray along with the ten. “There, are you happy now?” He asked, with an indignant tone.
“I’m so sorry. Your service was wonderful,” I told the waiter as I made a beeline for the door.
Once outside I turned to Ira and my monologue began. “What were you thinking? Don’t you understand that he works for tips? He’s making minimum wage and survives in New York City on those tips. Are you so removed from the real world that you don’t get that? I’ve never been more humiliated in my life.”
Ira tried to justify his shitty tip. Mentioning things like in Europe tips aren’t required, etc. I wasn’t having it. He finished with this, “Well, now he’s rich. He won’t have to pay taxes on that tip since it was cash.”
I walked away from that stupid remark and began searching the street for a cab. I also started to cry. I think it was a combination of being mortified and the realization that I was on a date with a monster.
Sometimes the hopelessness of this online dating experience gets to me.
Ira asked why I was crying and I told him that I found his cruelty to our server throughout dinner disgusting and then the tip he left was the final insult. I explained that I’d been a cocktail server in college and understood how hard the work was.
“You were a cocktail server?” Ira said, in a tone that implied I’d just told him I was a crack whore. “And where did you go to college, by the way?” Ira knew I went to the University of Nevada/Reno. I’d told him that on our first date. In typical lawyer fashion Ira was asking a question he already knew the answer to. And he was doing it to put me in my place.
“Don’t you dare pull that snobbish bullshit with me. You know exactly where I went to school and you’re not going to fuck with me that way,” I said calmly, no more crying. “You’re so transparent.”
A cab arrived and I got in. Ira got in the other side, which was a shock. “I’ll see you home, and maybe we can talk about this some more. I’m sorry if I upset you.”
“We have nothing to say. I don’t want to talk to you and you’re not coming inside my apartment.”
We rode in silence for a few blocks and the driver stopped at a red light. Ira opened the door and got out. “See ya,” he said, just before slamming the door.
I got an email message from him the next day apologizing for his behavior and filled with regret that we wouldn’t be seeing each other again. I think this was Ira’s boilerplate response to many women he’s met on the site.
I did not reply.
“Only the little people pay taxes.” Leona Helmsley
ouch?
Tom, I don’t think the question mark is needed. Maybe an exclamation point instead.
Yep!!
How awful! I’m glad you made him tip the server. Have you ever followed through with your initial instinct to leave in the middle of a date when you just know the guy is a jerk? I have, and it felt great. I didn’t mince words, but I wasn’t dramatic about it. I simply said this experience is not what I’d hoped it would be and I’m no longer interested in spending any more of my time getting to know you. No doubt my date thought I was the jerk, but I didn’t care. He wasn’t going to learn from me or change his behavior. And I knew if I stayed, I would be the one to feel bad about the whole experience.
Beckie, it was terrible. I was even shaking when I saw his email message the next day. I should’ve left and will not hesitate again if I ever experience anything like that disturbing date. Thanks for your comment!
Yikes. And I presume this guy will recognize himself when he reads this. But I’m guessing you don’t care about that.
No, Stan, I couldn’t care less. He is a vile man.
Wait…what happened with the date with Sebastian? Did you ever go on a date with him after all that e-mail build up?
R.J., I will do a follow-up on Sebastian when I’ve got something to report. I’ve had a busy week of dating that was already scheduled before I decided to see Sebastian. We are going to meet soon and we’ve been communicating. Thanks for holding me accountable.
What a jerk of a guy. Question. Have you ever considered ( and I don’t know if you have or not ) datiing non white men?
Beto….you owe me for the cost of replacing my keyboard.
Can you see the irony between the beginning and end of your comments?
I did not mean to imply what you think Bruce . I merely asked a question. But perhaps I should’ve asked the question on a different post.
Beto, several of the men I’ve written about in my posts are not white.
Holy hand grenades. So sorry for what happened to you but a resounding YOU GO GIRL for putting that bastard in his place. I feel kinda like I did during the movie “Norma Rae” when she gets up on her work station with a sign that says “UNION.”
Thanks, Theresa!
Two comments Melani,
First, I feel bad that you had to go through that evening. Another reminder that while beauty is skin deep, ugly is to the bone. An asshole is an asshole no matter how much money he/she has.
I have had only one date like that whereas the women started raising her voice and pointing her finger at me…to the point that other diners were noticing. Not fun.
The second comment that gave me pause…was when he commented about your writing about you having sex with your husband when he was sick. I understand why you wrote it and it actually tells us a lot about you as a person(That’s a good thing Melani!). For a blowhard, the guy has some insecurities. Anyways, what gave me pause was when you tried to explain your history and why it will be hard to replace Neal.
Melani, you won’t ever be able to replace Neal. What you had with him, you’ll never have “that” with anyone else.
Perhaps you didn’t mean it the way you wrote it but it’s a little telling regardless. No disrespect intended Melani, honest. I enjoy reading your blog and am glad to know that I’m not the only one who has had the pleasure of meeting someone who is really fucked up.
Bruce, I thought about that too, especially as I wrote the conversation. I am very aware that there’s no replacing Neal. I don’t even want someone who reminds me of him in any way. I normally wouldn’t say that but I wonder if I did to make “Ira” feel intimidated. Just to remind him of how special Neal was and he wasn’t close. If I were in therapy it would make a good point of discussion and thanks for your understanding of my sharing of that particular incident in the Fun Factor post.
What a pompous ass!! I’m so glad you didn’t back down to that bully! Unfortunately he sounds like a shameless narcissist and probably has zero real remorse. He simply lacks a conscience, which is why he does well at his job, I’m sure. But he will die miserable and lonely, right before he goes to that special place in hell…
Kristine, he is really evil–a nightmare experience.
Wow Mel,
In hindsight, don’t you wish you would have just got up and left at the first sign of his character defects? Ha! Ha! I wrote to you last week about my experiences and how I wished I’d done just that.
Next time, ladies and gentlemen, just get up without saying anything and hit the door running.
One of the effects of patriarchy is that male privilege allows many men to behave exactly like this. It is angering that there are men who believe that they can interrupt women, belittle them, and then stand on a high ground granted to them by pride. It is confusing when it is someone with whom they are on a date.
Bilal Ahmed, I’m not sure if this was patriarchy in action or just a despicable human being who couldn’t control himself. I agree that it’s confusing when someone behaves that way on a date. If that was how he would treat me on date number two, imagine what four or five would be like? Scary. Thank you for your comment.
Have really been enjoying your blog. Thanks.
I always pay particular attention to how a date handles the wait staff. It speaks volumes about thier character.
If I were in your shoes, and had another x chromosone I would have taken the waiter aside (on my way out to a cab) and slipped him a couple of twenties. And said, “Sorry about leaving you with this dick. Don’t worry about spitting in his last espresso.”
Steve, I wonder if the waiter did that anyway? I kind of hope so if I’m being honest.
Well that was off the chart rudeness. It was so effortless for him. Born with it or learned?
Digs, not sure if it was learned behavior. Maybe it’s best to just blame the parents!
Melani, you may have been totally disappointed, embarassed, shocked and humiliated, BUT, my guess is you bruised Ira deeply where it really hurts – his ego. And since I know Ira will be following this blog post with deep interest, I actually feel a bit sorry for him. Because his success as a high profile attorney his actually preventing him from seeing the person he really is. Sad…
As I follow your blog, I’m totally impressed with your tremendous resilience and fortitude. Congrats!!! And keep it up…
Rod, you are exactly right. Ira is the last person to know just how offensive Ira is. I’m sure eventually I’ll feel sad for him as you do. Thanks for the pep talk. I happy that you’re following along!
Oh, and was this cretin ever married?? If so, I’m sure his ex is the most happily divorced woman on the planet!!! And I’m praying as I write this that he never procreated!!!
Kristine, he was married and has children. I thought about his former wife and how happy she must be to be rid of him. I feel badly for his kids though. They’re stuck with him.
The contrast between this fellow and your description of the love you shared with your husband was so stark, it hurt my heart and made ME want to cry… I disagree with his assessment that you telling about the closeness you shared in that relationship was “inappropriate”. I think it helps readers to connect on a feeling level…and to better understand, in context, the journey you’re on now.
I’m enjoying your musings very much. They’ve given me some real belly laughs at times! Other times, they are showing me a different way of handling a situation than I might have done. I’ve started online dating this past year also, and since I have a tendancy to be a little TOO diplomatic, I am finding them educational as well
Hang in there, and thanks for sharing!
Thanks, Dee. I agree, sometimes I wonder if I’m better off accepting that I had one epic love and finding another may be impossible. I’m glad you’re enjoying the blog. I’ve never been called diplomatic–that’s for sure.
Oh my gosh, what a douchebag! Being from England, we don’t have to tip here at all, we just do out of politeness and it’s normally only a couple of quid. However, it’s pretty common knowledge that when you visit America you have to tip. I’m glad you stood up to him, he sounds like he’s used to surrounding himself with people who let themselves get walked all over.
Emily, no question that’s what he expects. He mentioned tipping in Europe which was a stupid comparison since servers in the U.S.(unlike other countries) are paid a meager wage and survive on tips. Douchebag is a great word for him.
How do servers make a living? Is there a higher base wage?
Hillary, I think you’re asking about servers in Europe. Yes, they do earn higher hourly wages or salary. That doesn’t mean that they still don’t need tips.
Thanks for the clarification Melani.
I just have a comment to make. You said that you will only date men with a college degree, but perhaps you are selling yourself short by not dating men that for whatever reason did not get to go to college, but are succesful in life.
Beto, it is something to consider. I’ve certainly dated my share of highly educated men who’ve turned out to be ignorant.
That was INTENSE. I mean…wow – date 2….whew! I had to take deep cleansing breaths to calm down after just reading about it. THANK YOU for putting him in his place. He could not possibly have been a bigger prick… *shudders*
Onward and upward…
Donna, he was shudder-worthy for sure.
Now I get to use the word “vicariously” for the first time ever and have it actually mean something. 37 years ago I made a decision to stop searching for a relationship until I could honestly see myself as a grown man who knows what real love is. I admitted I was immature, and though I had believed I had been searching for love all along, I had been really just pursuing sex. I wasn’t very good at it, I guess. The pursuing part, I mean, not the actual sex. Well, I never had any complaints.
But anyway, I’ve been alone ever since, even after I grew up and could see I was a real man and had figured out what real love is. But in all that time I found that I like solitude, and you probably don’t. Why else would you put yourself through this hopeless process? I can’t imagine meeting someone through online dating who I would then decide to love. I would worry that I would reawaken my old ways, like trusting chemistry, which always ends in boredom. Or I would feel the pressure of the process itself: You’re going through all this online dating so there ought to be a result, right? Or, worst of all, I would make an emotional decision (I’m sort of a Buddhist, and emotions are afflictive to us; it gets complicated, when you think the emotion is love).
The only way I can see I can find someone to love is by being around her all the time, for some reason like work, or sports, or some other daily activity where we worked together on something. And at some point I would just decide to love her. She might not have any interest in me at all at that point, but I would decide to love her anyway, and that would be enough. I guess I see it as a Don Quixote kind of thing, without the windmills. There is no “falling in love.” There is just the decision to love. There is no “making love.” There is just using each other for pleasure.
Don’t do this to yourself. It’s demeaning. You think a guy has good possibilities, and then he turns out to be a complete asshole. You’re 50. You have a kind face. You’re at the pinnacle of your cougeric powers. You don’t have to put up with this shit.
Join a masters swim club. Wear a speedo. So you have a little extra padding in the impact area. That can be a good thing. You’ll be around boring men who like to swim. No cancer, good cardiovascular capacity. You’ll decide to love one of them.
You’ll thank me later.
Sorry, Martin. I’m a romantic at heart. I do appreciate your suggestions (even the ‘impact area’ part) and the sharing of your path, but mine is a different one. I took one look at my late husband in a bar in Pittsburgh and knew he was the guy I’d be spending my life with. I didn’t decide to love–I had no choice. I’m not sure if the online dating experience will prove fruitful, but I’m giving it a year. I’m not going to settle. If I fall flat on my face–so be it. I’ve certainly been there before and as horrific as some of the dates have been, I’m actually having fun. I love the interaction with those who are reading the blog and the commiserating that takes place virtually. I feel as if I have a bunch of friends whom I’ve never met pulling for me. Thanks for your message and if you’re interested, here’s a link to an article I wrote about my late husband and how we met: http://www.modernloverejects.com/?p=1418
I understand why you loved him; I would have liked him. He was interesting. I think that was the key. Always interesting. But you wrote: “I took one look at my late husband in a bar in Pittsburgh and knew he was the guy I’d be spending my life with.” If that’s literally true and you’re not just backfilling to make the blog more interesting, then all you knew about him when you started loving him was that brief, visual input. You knew what he looked like. Granted, there was a lot of information there. He was fastidious and elegant, as well as good looking. But that’s all you knew about him. In particular, you hadn’t filled in an online dating questionare that you knew he had read, and you hadn’t read his. You met the love of your life walking into an airport hotel bar, so isn’t that where the odds are? Shouldn’t you just take the train out to JFK a couple times a week and walk into every hotel bar you can find? You walk in, you look around, if nobody hits your romantic sweet spot, you go home and write. Plus, you get to see all the guys on the subway. Increases your odds. You didn’t see Neal through the filter of an online dating survey. I can only imagine what Neal’s online survey would have read like based on what you wrote about him, but I’m not sure he would have made it through your filter. He would have sounded very strict about clothes, and he said he didn’t like Las Vegas. What kind of man doesn’t like Las Vegas?
At this point, you know more about me than you know about the guys you are meeting. “I didn’t decide to love–I had no choice.” Maybe. Or maybe you had already decided long before you walked into the bar. You were tired of being alone, and you had conditioned yourself over the weeks and months, or even years, before you met Neal, to recognize what you wanted in a man, visually. You even said you had a feeling of recognition. On the other hand, his feeling of recognition of you is easy to explain. He saw an uncommonly attractive woman (maybe a little extra padding in the impact area, but that can be a good thing) walking toward him in a bar, looking at him like she owns him. At your age do you really still not know how powerful that is?
You had already decided. The rest of the night you made it easy for him. You were proactive about him because he matched the visual pattern you had set up, and because he turned out to be a genuinely interesting man. Now, when you look back on it, you forget that you had already set yourself up to make it happen, and it looks like you had no choice. It was so romantic.
You’re a lot more of a prime mover than you think you are. You’re having an effect on me, and I’m on the other side of the planet.
Martin!!! My ass is not THAT big!
Now, as far as the “instant recognition” part of meeting Neal, that was the magic. I wasn’t expecting it, didn’t think it was possible–hence the way I was dressed. I kind of hope it will happen again in that fashion–a I’ll-know-it-when-I-see-it sort of thing. I figure it’s as likely with someone online as it is anywhere else. We shall see. If I don’t have another big love, I’ll be fine. Maybe wanting it twice is being greedy.
AND lay off my butt or at least change the words to the song your singing to, “Baby got an age appropriate amount of back.”
You mean you don’t look like Coco? Now I have to change my fantasy.
Hi Mélani,
I really enjoy your blog and am quite disappointed that you can’t write faster! At first, I agreed with Martin’s point of view. I have tried a dating on-line site, met this amazing person, only to find out that he was a jerk. Now, I have stopped looking, learning to be happy focussing on other things, thinking that (romantic as always) I’ll probably meet my soul mate when I’ve stopped searching so hard. And if I don’t, I’ll be a winner any way. then, with Martin’s later comments, I wonder if he isnt just trying to attract you in a roundabout way? Final comment, although Ira is a jerk, isn’t it a little bit much to 1) only go out with guys who can afford to take you someplace nice, and 2) never even offering to pay the tip? Or is this the way the cookie crumbles in neurotic NY, no offense intended.
Frances, thanks for your comment and I’m glad you’re enjoying the blog. Now to your two questions. 1. As I’ve stated in previous posts, I don’t normally contact men on the dating sites so their financial situation is not something I seek–the men I date contact me. Also, I don’t have an income criteria which is an option on the dating sites. If you go back to the beginning you’ll see I’ve not limited myself by race, religion or income. I’ve also gone on many dates that were just a drink. I don’t pick the places, they do. On your second question, I guess that’s the way my cookie crumbles and I don’t think neurotic NY has anything to do with it. If you read the post, “Who’s Paying” you’ll see I’m still trying to figure out if I am being less than generous by not at least offering. My problem is I’ve never dated a man who would let me pay for anything and plenty of them weren’t wealthy.Perhaps that’s the sort of man I attract and am attracted to. Jury is still out on that one. Thanks again for your comment.
I’m not trying to attract. I am attracted. Don’t blame me.
And another thing! HE KNEW ABOUT THE BLOG…and he STILL behaved that way??? How embarassing for him as a human being. What a waste of DNA…yuk.
Sometimes you encounter situations in real life that are so far-fetched, so outer-worldly that you think, if you wrote about it in a novel, nobody would believe it. Too bizarre.
This was one of those situations. What a dysfunctional human being. Poor guy!
Catherine, I’m not quite there yet (poor guy part), but I’m working on my inner Ghandhi. It was bizarre.
I hear you, Melani. The inner Ghandhi thing is always easier when it doesn’t involve you.
Enjoying your blog immensely…..how horrific of a human being Ira is…..maybe he will wind up having big enough balls to respond here since I’m sure he is reading and doesn’t feel he did anything wrong…..other than being his normal boorish self!!!!
I was actually being kind. There were other awful things that he did/said that I could’ve used, but those might have made him easier to identify. If he comments and it’s bullshit, the gloves are coming off.
I’m glad you stood up to Ira. What a dickbag. He falls into the category of nouveau riche quite well.
Your writing is fantastic, by the way. Nothing “aspiring” about it. You should consider yourself a pro. Reading your blog makes us feel like we are actually with you. That isn’t an attempt at flattery, it’s the truth.
My mother is always skeptical when I tell her I am going out with a litigation lawyer because they seem to be incapable of turning off the “work” (read: manipulation) mode in their personal relationships. I am sure there are exceptions to this rule but it has been my experience that they always want to dominate and use really shitty behavior to accomplish this followed by massive apologies then repeat.
It might be good to rule men in this profession out for a while but big kudos to you for handling this guy with forcefulness.
Mary, Ira is not the first lawyer I’ve dated. It seems the litigators are excellent at setting a person up with lots of flowery speak and then going for the jugular. Lots of practice with that in court. At least the ones I’ve dated–but I’m still open to dating lawyers. Somebody has to
No, no, no…never….that guy is a walking talking ass clown, not to mention he doesn’t even bother to disguise all the blinking neon signs in his behavior that say TROUBLE. His over riding need to always be right…his condescending attitude and belittling remarks, and lastly but least…failing to tip properly and treating a server rudely because he perceives them less of a person than himself. This date had loser written all over him. I don’t know how you made through to the end since he clearly was holding you hostage. What a boring cliche he was. You did the right thing.
Tracey, you nailed him. He was holding me hostage and he knew about the blog. I wonder if he would’ve been even worse if he hadn’t known? Somehow I feel he’s unable to control himself.
What an asshole!
Yep. And that’s putting it mildly, John.
I just started reading your blog posts a couple of weeks ago. I am working my way forward from the beginning(Jan 2012). This one made me so emotional I had to comment. In “The Fun Factor” you shared an intimate experience in which you infused love into the most terrifying of circumstances. For “Ira” to pass judgement on such a thing hit me in the pit of my stomach. A man with an ego the size of his couldn’t handle the fact that he would not be able to conquer the love you shared with your husband. Thank you for sharing the beautiful, ugly, and inappropriate!
OH, Meagan, you nailed it. Ira was so impressed with himself that he couldn’t imagine everyone else wouldn’t be. He was an awful man and if he’d taken a moment to get his ego and arrogance in check he might’ve realized that in describing my “fun” with Neal I might be bringing that sort of fun to a new relationship, even in the scariest of scenarios. It seems like a much better alternative to crying or lamenting the hand we were dealt, right? I’m glad you discovered the blog and I hope it’s keeping you entertained. Thank you so much for your insightful comment.
Like Meagan, I just found and started reading your adventures a little while ago. They are very entertaining, sometimes hilarious, sometimes painful, sometimes infuriating, but always worth the time invested. After using the on-line dating sites for about eight years, (can you say “persistent” or perhaps “masochistic”?) having four long relationships during that time, including one short marriage, and going on far too many first dates, I did finally find my female “Neal.” So I was a little sad to hear that it did not have the same result for you. Or more precisely as you’ve said, not another Neal, but at least another partner. One question for you (because I am too lazy to search, or perhaps too elicit a response from you?). Has your book finally been published? Regarding “Ira” when I run across people like him I always remember the saying, “How someone treats you is their karma, how you respond is yours.” Remembering the saying is easy, embodiment – much harder. From my viewpoint it appears your karma is just fine.
Dale, what a lovely message. Thank you so much. The book (the memoir love story) has not been published but my goal is to do so by this year. With or without traditional publishing. I’ve also started a second book about my online dating experiences. A behind the scenes look at what was going on during my year of blogging. I’ve completed the first chapter and it’s being “shopped” as we speak. If there’s a publisher willing to move forward I’ll be writing like crazy to get it done. If not, I may just go ahead and self publish this one, too. I’ll be sure to let everyone know the status so if you’ve subscribed to melanirobinson.com you’ll get a heads up. Thank you for asking. Now, on to you. I can’t believe you were able to stay online for 8 years! How amazing that it worked out in the end. So happy you found your “Neal.” Thank you, again, for taking the time to write. I agree about karma. Something tells me that Ira faces challenges every day just because he knows who he really is deep down inside. Imagine living with that?
Melani, If you subtract the three long term relationships and the one short marriage that were before finding Kari (my Neal) the actual time on-line was just a little over two years. When I relate some of my stories to Kari she laughs and tells me I should write a book about them. Perhaps she is right, even if it ended up being only for her enjoyment. On the other hand, while there are a few books by women about the on-line dating experience I don’t know of any from the male point of view so maybe there would be a “market” for it. Or maybe there is a good reason there aren’t any? I hope your “shopped chapter” does become a full length book. If it does I know I’ll be reading it to Kari and saying with a sly grin, “I knew her when….” By the way, I was Kari’s first, and only, on-line date!
P.S. Regarding the short marriage – we had dated for about a year and decided to move in together as a sort of test to see if we wanted to marry. Within a month of moving in she was diagnosed with cancer. That caused us to marry almost immediately so she would have health insurance. We then went through one year of chemo together followed by one year of coming to the realization that we were not a good match after all. We had a very amicable divorce and she is doing fine, cancer free now for almost five years.
Hi Dale. Lucky Kari, first and only online date! From your fingers to the book gods ears on the “I knew her when” portion of your message. Thanks for that! I’m happy to hear your former wife is doing fine. It seems like everything is as it’s supposed to be in your life. It also seems well deserved. Thank you for sharing.