100 Days

(Editor's note: This was originally posted in my journal on one of my dating sites on May 14, 2011. I didn't post it here at that time, because of certain timeline issues, but now feel that it's appropriate.  It's been slightly edited for clarity. JR: I have you to thank for the song mentioned.)

I am learning a lot of things about myself in this most recent period of dating (since I moved to NC in January). Things I had not taken into consideration before, but had been patently obvious. I have read websites, books, blogs and articles on dating and relationships, and each has its advice and wisdom. Some things I don’t agree with, but some things I have come to realize the truth of. For example, it takes time to determine whether a certain individual will make good relationship material. On the surface, it seems like a “duh” statement – but, I’ve seen too many folks (including myself) jumping right into a committed relationship without really getting to know each other.

My fear (and in my experience, the reality) is that what was first full of chemistry and a whole lotta lust will dull – and perhaps sour – in short order. I would not wish this on anyone, but having experienced this very phenomenon so many times, I have determined that I will not skip down that road blindly again. It’s not easy to resist the temptation of putting one's life on hold and making future plans concerning someone with whom after a few dates, seems so beautifully matched. But, recent experience tells me that I must resist. My heart is on the line, you see. This is why my Frog Prince will remain nameless until I am as sure as I can be concerning his long-term potential.

Some experts say that waiting at least 90 days or so before making a determination on the suitability of the object of your affection as a “keeper” may save one a great deal of pain and frustration. Which brings to mind a song I recently heard. Enjoy.

The Frog who Could be Prince

I am down to one current Pond resident. I had actually planned to slow the parade o’ frogs for a time, simply because dating in this way is exhausting and I just wanted to lay low for a while. Some folks have told me that as soon as one stops looking, the right one comes along. Who’d have thought that my experience would be that close to the mark? Who’d believe that this frog – the only remaining frog in my Pond – would just pop up on the radar by happenstance and actually end up with tons of Prince potential? Talk about serendipity!

Okay, so let me back up a little. Several weeks ago, on one of the online systems I use, this man had put my profile in his ‘favorites’ list. This is a common occurrence. Generally when that happens, most people once notified would simply not acknowledge it. My thinking is that the favorites setting isn’t just for the convenience of the person selecting the ‘favorite’ – it’s also for creating interest in the person having been selected as such. It can be used as a great opener for further communication. I choose to take advantage of such attention by checking out the man’s profile to see if there is some interest on my end. If I am interested (or even if I’m not), I will message the other person, thanking him for making my profile a ‘favorite.’

This was such a day. Once I was notified that my profile was selected as a favorite, I checked his profile. To be honest, I didn’t think we’d be such a match. His profile indicated that we had some things in common, but that there were some core differences. Plus, his profile said he was in the entertainment business and had been for more than 25 years. Nothing wrong with that, but what would I have in common with someone who does that sort of thing, I ask you? According to his pictures, he was very good-looking – almost too good-looking. My knee-jerk thought was, “Why the hell is he making my profile a favorite? He probably has tons of women groveling at his feet!” I initially had him pegged as a ‘player.’ Add to that, our philosophies seemed quite divergent. Oh, well, I thought to myself – I should at least be polite and acknowledge the action. So, I messaged him to say thank you. I do this for nearly everyone who makes my profile a ‘favorite,’ so this is not out of the ordinary. But, I don’t expect a reply. However, he did reply saying that he would love to meet up sometime. I replied positively in an non-committal way (I was truly getting tired of this string of “first-and-only” dates), but decided that if he openly asked for a meeting, I would comply. Well, sure enough, he did, and we communicated over the course of nearly a week to arrange a meeting over coffee.

I wasn’t optimistic in the least. To be honest, I determined that this frog would be the last to play in my pond for a while. I was simply tiring of playing this game and felt the need to hang up my lily pad to reset (perhaps just a couple of weeks, but I really needed a break). I had already hid some of my profiles on other systems in an effort to reduce the traffic of frogs jumping in and out of my pond. This particular system was to be among the last that on that list.

In a previous post, I had described my first date with Frog Eleven, and it was everything I claimed. We have since seen each other several times over the last month and it seems to be getting better and better. As it turns out, we have a lot of things in common, not the least of which is an affinity for dogs. And, those core things I thought were opposite of my own beliefs, turns out are not as far from my own philosophies, after all.

About Frog Eleven

Frog Eleven is polite, considerate and very, very charming. About 6’1” and 190 lbs, he is large and strong. In his prime he has weighed as much as 240 lbs, I’m told. A former owner of two fitness centers, he still has an athletic build, complete with broad shoulders and powerful arms and legs. His face shows a bit of careworn age, but when he smiles, the years seem to erase magically and a boyish look takes over. For an older man (he is almost 10 years my senior), I find him to be delightful eye candy. The hair on his head is not colored as I had once assumed; I noticed the gray sprinkled among the thick, sable brown locks once I got close enough. His strong Southern accent was difficult for me to adjust to at first, but has since grown on me. Bright blue, smiling eyes reflect his good humor. He has a calm demeanor that is somehow comforting when I am around him. He is friendly and social to everyone (from store clerk to maitre d') he comes in contact with. He is an equal-opportunity charmer!

He speaks little of his career in the entertainment business, but what he has told me is rather interesting – but not all that impressive. He’s actually semi-retired, and since moving to NC to care for his mother, he’s not been doing much work. It’s really not a big deal – he is far from the glitz and glamour of those in the A-list, although he has been known to attend gatherings of those on that list. I liken his career to those of most people in the entertainment industry – I would guess that 90 percent of them are small-time. He is among that group. Celebrity, for the most part, has never impressed me anyway, so it doesn’t matter what he does, in my opinion. I’ve rubbed shoulders with many high-profile figures, celebrities and politicos in my time, and discovered that they’re all human – just like us. To his credit, Frog Eleven shows all of the charm – and none of the ego or haughtiness – of some in that field of work.

During his first marriage, he raised Bulldogs (back then, they were called English Bulldogs). He understands and loves dogs, although he hasn’t had any for some time. We have talked at great length about this common interest, and have found we share the same philosophy on health issues, care and training. Thank goodness, no issues there! He was curious about my dogs, and interested in hearing about my plans for the future concerning them. He looks forward to attending dog shows with me.

He was soon given the opportunity to prove his feelings and philosophies about dogs. A couple of weeks ago, Merlin, my dog, appeared to have a back issue. Frightened, I made a same-day appointment with the local vet, but I was concerned about how to get him in the car. I had thought to call my girlfriend, who is smaller than I am – we would have a very hard time trying to get a 140-lb dog into my little car if he could not get up on his own. I made the decision to call Frog Eleven for help. To my surprise, he finished what he was doing as soon as he was able, and made his way over to my house. As luck would have it, Merlin began to improve by the time we took him to the vet, so physical help was not needed. However, I was very worried, so Frog Eleven went with me for moral support. He was just what the doctor ordered! His calm presence, as well as his arm placed protectively around my shoulder, was a balm and kept me from freaking out. Thankfully, Merlin’s issue was not orthopedic; he had a urinary tract infection. Antibiotics were all that was needed. I was relieved and happy and got lots of hugs from Frog Eleven. Afterward, he had the chance to interact with both dogs at my home, and Boston, my girl, is quite taken with him. The feeling is mutual, by my observation. He loves the dogs and they completely return the favor.

Since that day, Frog Eleven and I have seen each other frequently. Since he was the only frog in the Pond at the time, we were exclusive by default. However, recently, we have made the conscious decision that exclusivity is what we both want, and so we are going forward with that in mind.

Going Forward

Here, one might think that I will have nothing more to blog about, now. Wrong! Although it would seem that I have met my Prince, I have told him that I will not consider ourselves as being in a committed relationship for at least three months, perhaps longer. So, until we pass that marker, I will be blogging occasionally about how our relationship is developing. I am cautiously optimistic, but cautious all the same. I can only be myself. And hope.

So, now comes the dilemma: What should I call him now? Is he still Frog Eleven? Or, is he Potential Prince? Your input is welcome.

I’ll keep you posted,

SA

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Breaking Up is Hard to Do

This post will go over some of my experience with rejection – both aspects of receiving and giving. It’s never easy either way, but if you’re going to dive into the frog pond, you have to deal with this at some point. You can’t determine the suitability of someone just by email and phone calls – you have to meet them.

Since the concept of this blog began, I have met nearly a dozen men. For many of these meetings, I know within 30 minutes whether there is that “click” or not. For the vast majority, there is nothing, and we go our separate ways – no hard feelings. However, sometimes it takes a few (or several) dates to make this determination. Often something “clicks” but then something “unclicks.” It could be a number of things to cause it, but I won’t get into that here, as it’s very subjective. This is a common phenomenon, and breaking it off (including breaking the news to your future former dating partner) can be somewhat difficult. Case in point, my experience with Frog Two, who did not bother to break the news to anyone prior to announcing to the world his change in status. I do NOT recommend this mode of notification. It makes more enemies than friends.

For my part, it’s important to cut the relationship cleanly – no messiness if at all possible. I do this by sitting with the intended victim in person (if possible), and after thanking them for their companionship, explain that I no longer feel that we can go further. If said victim asks why, then I will explain to them – as delicately as possible – the reasons. I never raise my voice, use slurs or name-calling and I make it as short as possible.

My experience with Frog Nine, in particular, can be used as a cautionary tale. From several dates over the course of two weeks, I had gone from cautiously optimistic to total aversion. This is a lesson on how to break up (or not) and how to react to said break-up (or not).

For our first meeting, we arranged to meet at a coffee and wine bar one evening, and aside from the fact that Frog Nine was late (and didn’t feel the need to update me himself; I’d called him), we had a good time once he arrived. Not attractive to me in the least, but he was personable, if a little too cozy. Still, he did not overstep any boundaries, and later told me that I could take all the time I needed. After the first meeting, and before the end of the next, I got the feeling that he was a lot more into me than I was into him. He sent an email later that day asking for the next date, saying, “tonight would not be too soon.” Hmmm… Still, I saw in him a huge capacity for sweetness and compassion and decided to continue trying to discover who he really was. I got that in spades.

Our next - and third - date was dinner at his house. He lived in a town nearby in a very old (circa 1900s) section. He said he owned his house outright and has no payments. The brick house looked nice on the outside but somewhat run down on the inside. It wasn’t dirty or damaged; just old and not updated. He was preparing dinner: a nice steak with pasta and shrimp and green salad. I came in around the beginning of it, so offered to help, which he accepted. A man that cooks and works well with you in the kitchen is a bonus. He also prepared for me one of his specialty drinks: a mint julep. I’m not a huge bourbon fan, but the drink was nice and cooling on a warm evening. I nursed my one drink while he went through at least three over the course of the date, by my count. Nothing really wrong with that (I don’t drink a lot, so it can really affect me), as he seemed to be able to hold his liquor, but I did take a mental note. The date ended positively and the next day, he asked me out for that evening. I declined, saying that I had things I needed to do. Over the next several days, he persisted, and I acquiesced. We were to go out, but I met him at his house. By this time, he had already had a few drinks and was showing it. I tolerated the date, and at the end, told him what was on my mind.

I had been raised around alcoholics and drug addicts, and for some miraculous reason, that disorder did not plague me. I had seen the effects of substance abuse, and I will not – under any circumstances – accept that in any partner. I won’t even date a ‘recovering’ substance abuser. I’ve seen that shit hit the fan and scatter far and wide. Too damaging. Won’t do it. Period.

He told me that he just got carried away, and that it wouldn’t happen again. I shouldn’t have, but I gave him the benefit of the doubt. I was to be proven wrong.

The last date was when he came over to my house (I had misgivings about any future with him, but decided to follow through), and he brought two bottles of wine. Most heavy drinkers are not picky about what they drink, and it was true here. I could not drink what he had, but he proceeded to drink glass after glass in short order. I watched him go from reasonably sober to nearly tottering drunk. He was pawing me, and I had just had enough. He made a comment to me that put me on high-alert: “What about your other boyfriends – do I need to kill any of them?” He tried to put if off as a joke, but that was an extremely dangerous thing to say. I told him that he had to leave – now. The compassionate part of me wanted to just have him sleep it off on the sofa, but my fear was that he would take advantage of my generosity and not keep to the sofa like a good boy. So, I went against my logic and I kicked his ass out, only marginally concerned that he would be driving drunk. I secretly hoped he would be pulled over, perhaps saving himself and untold others. It did not escape my mind the ramifications of an accident which involved innocent people. My instinct for self-preservation overrode any compassion I had for anyone else. As sad as it sounds, I'm sure few people would do otherwise.

This was not the end of Frog Nine. Over the course of several days, he emailed, texted and called me several times a day. I tried to ignore his overtures, thinking that he would finally get the hint. He did not. I decided that I needed to call him and give him the “come to Jesus” talk. He did not answer his phone, so I decided to give him his walking papers by voicemail (not my favorite mode of dumping a frog, but I felt he gave me no choice). I told him that I didn’t want to see him again, that his relationship with alcohol was a dangerous one and that any further communication with me would be ignored. He followed up the next day with an email (ugh!) asking why I was acting this way. Okay, so this time I was really concerned. I feared that he might decide to show up at my house some day and force the issue. I have since taken measures to ensure that if that happened, there would be an evidence trail if things got bad.

I don’t recommend that one should go out and buy a gun or any other defensive device – especially if one is not trained thoroughly in such devices. I am, but no longer own a pistol. So, I took the following measures:

Since I had been dating multiple men, I kept a spreadsheet with all pertinent information on it, including the full name, address (if known), phone number, and dating site info (username, etc.). I sent this document to two trusted Facebook friends. These friends are people with whom I had communication with almost daily, and would notice if my activity on FB waned. These people had my contact info, so would follow up. On my phone, I programmed the numbers of those trusted friends as ICE (In Case of Emergency) contacts. I felt that if something unfortunate happened, that there would be an evidence trail in place.

Was I jumping to conclusions? Perhaps, but this is an object lesson to prove that you just don’t know someone when you’re in the first weeks of dating – perhaps even the first months. I will recommend this practice to anyone who wishes to do online dating - or any dating, for that matter. An ounce of prevention, don’t you know.

I am down to just one frog in the pond. My next post will go over my experience with Frog Eleven: the Frog who could be Prince.