Does anybody read these?

I got you, babe.

As I find myself newly single, yet again, I am wondering if I should just go all-out channeling my inner Carrie Bradshaw and make this blog about the trials and tribulations of a single girl trying to date in the big city.


But a) I am not completely sold on the idea of trying to date in the big city (keep reading) and b) that might be a little too much TMI even for me. (And yes, I know “TMI” actually covers the “too much.” I wanted to convey a lot of TMI there.)

However, this post will be about a serious dating issue: Why strangers think they can call you by pet names AND think that you’ll like it.

I don’t know if I’ve ever talked about my aversion to pet names before. But, I have one and it’s a serious issue.

Only a few select people can call me by pet names: My parents call me “Sis,” because I am, after all, my brothers’ only sister. My Aunt Foo (who obviously has her own pet name) and my Uncle Mike call me Daisy. I am not 100% my Uncle Mike knows my real name. This stems from the early-80s Dukes of Hazzard craze. My brother, Luke, became “Luke Duke,” and I, by association, became Daisy. Thirty-some years later, I’m still Daisy to them.

And my ex-boyfriend Chris still calls me “Dear” sometimes. I think he just does it because his parents call each other dear in a kind of tongue-in-cheek way. It’s not because he’s hot for me or anything. And it’s something he started after we’d been going out for several months. You know, when we actually knew each other and had a relationship.

That’s it. Not on that list, you should call me Laura. Or LJ, if you’re one of the friends who managed to survive that dreadful era of my life. (The friends – well, most of them – weren’t dreadful, just that time of my life.)

So, anyway. You will noticed that “sug,” “hon,” “baby,” “sweetie,” or –my personal favorite – “sexy,” were nowhere on that list.

It is not cool for a stranger to call me names that are terms of endearment. It’s not cool for the girl who checks me out at the grocery to call me “honey,” and it’s really, really, really not cool for a guy I have talked to for 30 whole seconds to call me “babe” or – worse yet – “sexy.”

Honestly, I’m pretty sure that if I were married for half my life and my husband called me “sexy,” it would probably set me off.

I find men who refer to women with those kinds of terms to be disrespectful, and seriously, it is the quickest way to get shut down if you are trying to date me.

It instantaneously makes me want to kick someone in the nuts.

Needing a little self-esteem boost after last week’s hullaballo, I decided to dust off my online dating profile. This was a move that lasted about two hours, mostly because of the pet names. We could get into the bigger issue of people seeing your photo online and developing an absurd “connection” and displaying a creepy overfamiliarity, but that’s not even necessary because I can’t get past the pet names.

So, Mr. “Hey, babe, maybe we can go out sometime” (only with more atrocious spelling)? Oops. You’ve been deleted.

Mr. “How’s your day going, sexy”? You need to go out to a field and try that on a sheep or something.

I was mentioning this hindrance (aside from the atrocious spelling) to a friend – who’s Southern, I might add, because this apparently seems more friendly to Southerners – and after he lambasted me for being a cold, insensitive Yankee, he told me that I should just tell guys that it makes me want to kick them in the nuts because they probably don’t realize and think that it’s endearing. (And then he said “I’ve never done that to you before, right?” To which I assured him he had not since I was still talking to him.)

And I’ve done that. I’ve asked guys to cut it out with the overly familiar pet names. To which they usually reply, “Anything u want, babe.”

ARGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!

If you do this, or you know someone (brother, friend, lady at the supermarket) who does, please tell them to tone it down. I just find it disrespectful and demeaning, and a brief Google search I believe I am not the only one who feels this way.

And in addition to insulting me and making me want to kick you in the nuts, whether you are or not, it makes me think you are a major player. When you call me babe, I assume that this isn’t your first rodeo and you think women are playthings whose names are not even worth remembering. I just assume that you are like this with every woman and you are looking for a quick score. And I think your parents never taught you manners, which is just something you do not want other people to think about you.

So, what does everyone else think? Am I just being a rude northerner and totally overreacting or do I have a valid complaint? I would love to hear other people’s feelings on this issue.

Labels: dating, stupid things men do

posted by Laura at 10:36 AM | 1 comment(s)

Quiet

In some strange way, I'm secretly hoping that I've been so quiet lately you've all given up on me and aren't reading anymore. What kind of writer doesn't want people to read her words?

One who needs to talk, has no one to talk to and just doesn't want the commentary.

Anyone who's been here for a while knows that a few years ago, I went out with someone for several months, helped him raise his child and then ended up having a nervous breakdown when he left me to try to work things out with his ex-wife. It was one of the hardest, darkest times of my life.

Once life had finally started to look up from that, I found out that I was having some health issues and got caught up in some nasty drama involving another man who had crossed my path.

With all that, I just put the whole dating scene up on a shelf high on a closet and worked on improving myself and not worrying about other people.

I bought a house. A house that I got a good deal on and that I love. I am excited every night when I come home.

But right after I moved into that house, I met a guy. A really nice guy. A really nice guy that I liked a lot. He and I spent a lot of time together and I just really enjoyed being around him. I didn't figure I'd be with him forever, but I was definitely enjoying it while it lasted.

And then last week, I went to Disney World with my family, which was probably the best week I have had in a really long time, possibly forever. It was so cool to get to spend a week with my nephew, whom I only see once or twice a year. Actually, that could be said about just about anyone in my family these days.

And Disney World? Well, I am not sure how I made it almost 36 years before I went to Disney World. That place is amazing. They really go out of their way to make sure you have a first-rate experience there.

I talked to my suitor while I was gone. I told him I had thought about buying him a gift, but I hadn't bought it yet. He and I talked and everything seemed OK.

Except it wasn't. I hadn't heard from him the rest of the week, but I knew he was busy with work, so I finally checked in once I was getting ready to come back home.

And he dropped a bombshell on me. He'd decided to reunite with his ex-wife.

Luckily, I've been dealt these cards so many times in the last few years that I new exactly how to play this hand. It's not hard actually. You cry a little. You try to figure out why the fuck this keeps happening to you. And then you go about your business because there's nothing else you can do.

I think the part that pissed me off the most is that getting dumped right before your birthday totally sucks. Not as much as the realization that you will never be able to keep a man, especially when his ex-wife that he's done nothing but talk shit about comes along, but it does suck.

Oh, well. Life goes on. I'm still healthy. I have a job.  A house. I'm doing it all on my own, simply because that's the hand I've been dealt.

However, the guilt must have been getting to my little friend, because he felt compelled to email me a play-by-play of the events of the week that I was gone and tell me how great things are and how this was what was missing blah blah blah.

I'm not sure why he did that. It wasn't to rub it in or anything. I think he just wanted to tie up loose ends. It didn't make me want to tell him to go fuck himself anyless, but of course I'm too polite for that.

So, now I sit here. I sit here missing someone I have no right to miss. Someone who really, truly doesn't deserve to be missed by me anyhow.

Every time this happens I say I'm getting too old to do it again. And this time, at 36, I'm thinking I'm for real. The benefits (although they were really, really great this time) do not outweigh the costs. I own my own house, I have a good job, a nice car...I think I really am just better off by myself.

Before I left, my therapist asked me where I saw myself at 40. And, while I'm not a huge fan of setting arbitrary, age-based goals, I did have a few (which I'm not sharing right now), but none of them included having a spouse or even a significant other. While there really are no words to explain how I feel to come home, in the rain, to see a man holding flowers on my back porch waiting for me, there aren't any words to explain how I feel when I come home and realize he's not ever going to be there again either.

All I can really say on this gloomy day is that I'm thankful the eye doctor put all kinds of drops in my eyes, because it gives me an excuse to mist up once in a while...

Labels: dating, neuroses, stupid things men do

posted by Laura at 11:31 AM | 0 comment(s)