I’ve decided to join a Jewish monastery.
OH, they don’t exist you say? Well then I’m going to create one, dedicate myself to Moses…you know, the works! Tack that on to my list of “things to do.” If the experiences I’ve had up until this point have not given you reason enough to believe me, I’d like to present you with yet another experience: M&M (*All names changed)
M&M seemed awesome “on paper.” With eloquent communication laced with humor and ingenuity, not to mention a weird love for Will Ferrell that not everyone can always appreciate, M&M appeared to be my kind of guy.
When we talked for a bit, his emails were full of wit and flattery, even the title’s had personality! After finding out that I’m getting my Masters, the title’s became: Ally, Master of Kickassery…which anyone who knows me knows that I ate that up…with a spoon… a big ladle, in fact.
He’s cute, with great teeth and curly hair, which I go gaga for. Perhaps I’m biased, who knows. He is precious in a baby-faced kind of way that you start to think wow, you can’t be 31! But then you get closer and realize oh yeah…it’s possible. Now anyone that knows me, also knows that I never choose boyfriends through what they look like. My type is often referred to as lagoon creatures and as my one friend put it recently…swamp monkeys. It’s always about the connection. Usually the quickest way to speak to my heart is laugh at my jokes. Laugh hard and seem sincere. I love that. But this seemed like maybe…just maybe…I was in the presence of a mythical unicorn.
Side Note: My friends and I define the “man of our dreams” as a mythical unicorn. It’s something we’ve heard a lot about, but cannot seem to find, no matter how many people claim to have empirical evidence they exist.
M&M is talking about Nirvana and The Toadies…we’re having this fabulous night. Out of nowhere this older man with way to many Backstreet Boy highlights steps over to chat with us. He explains he’s here with his ex-wife, who’s “hot, right?” But she’s having problems with her 21 year old boyfriend…mainly because she’s 45. On the other hand, this guys girlfriend works at the fire station with him (clearly by now you’ve realized they’re fire…people? Sorry for leaving that out).
Raul is his name, and he and his 22-year-old girlfriend are in love. They make porno together and discuss all things fire, integrating fire into foreplay if they get the chance. M&M is a government worker, so Raul becomes an automatic “bro”, engaging him in conversation, laughing, making jokes and crank calling government officials. He keeps looking over at me, going “ M&M…bro this girl….is a cool chick. I can just tell. A badass, cute, cool chick.” I’m like…thank you Raul, so nice of you to say, etc…
Pretty soon M&M leaves to go to the bathroom and I’m left alone with Raul who leans over to me and says, ”You going home with him tonight?”
“No,” I reply, trying to avert my eyes and give him the hint I’m not interested in pursuing this conversation any longer. “Oh C’mon…go home with him…ride him a little. What would it hurt?”
All I’m thinking is…of course this would happen. Why not? If I didn’t have bad luck with dating, I wouldn’t date at all.
At that moment, Raul leans over and says…”You know, if you weren’t going home with M&M tonight, you’d be going home with me.” I whipped around, looked him dead in the eye and said…”You know Raul…I think I’m a bit too old for you. I’m 25 after-all…Plus, I can’t film any porno’s… anymore…without a donkey, three chimps and a dominatrix present. Sorry.”
M&M sauntered back into the bar and at this point I’m ready to go.
He can pick up on the weird look I’m giving him, mainly because I have a terrible poker face…and I’m trying my best to subtly give him the let’s kindly get the fuck out of here now look.
Long story short..er (than what I’d normal give you, which is the painful play by play), we leave and head somewhere else. At this point he divulges he had 8 cats at one time, now he has 3. If that’s not weird enough at 31 to have 8 cats…I could keep going. While at the bar, he mentions to me…you know, your last name doesn’t sound very Jewish. I mention that it’s actually my middle name that is my “family” name with the Romanian/Jewish background. Upon hearing my middle name he pauses for a second…like something clicked with him….which I would never have thought twice about…..until this moment…..
After our date I decided I wasn’t into it. So I started ignoring phone calls and trying not to get too involved. A week or so later, I get a text…he’s had a hard day and needs to talk to someone. Being an idiot, I cave and say alright, tell me what happened and lets see if we can find a solution. He thanks me, tells me he feels much better and while he’s in a sharing mood….he has something to tell me.
Him: “Do you want to know a secret?”
Him: “No really, do you want to know?”
I’m getting irritated.
Me: “YES…just tell me!”
Him: “Jody Finkle knows a lot about me”
At this point some things are starting to come together…Jodie Finkle is my Aunt, who is a Psychiatrist.
Me: “JODIE FINKLE? I don’t remember telling you my aunts name…”
Him: “You didn’t.”
Turns out, he was one of my Aunt’s clients…fabulous.
Anyone ready to start that monastery?
Well, how about this: M&M II, the reckoning
When my interest in M&M began to dissipate, I began to pull away, as most people do. I always wondered what could have been between he and I, had things of gone differently, and thought maybe I had been to hard on M&M. Too judgmental. So what he goes to therapy, who doesn’t? At least he was willing to confront the issues he’s facing, the walls he’s placed around himself and try to get a grip on reality, right?
My mom would say, “How weird would it be for him to come to a family gathering, knowing full well your Aunt knows everything there is to know about him?
Admittedly? Super weird. SO when I heard from M&M a few months ago, I was a little surprised to find myself a little curious to see why he was brought back into my life. At the very least, I’d have another winning story…and at the most? Well, sky was the limit.
Email number one:
“Dear Ally, Master of Kickassery,
Are you still kicking ass and being awesome? Have you forgtton me, moved to NY and become famous? If not…I’d love to talk to you, as I’m not sure what ever really happened and I think about it a lot. It’d be great to see that hair, and that smile. So tell me…How does one become a Master of Kickassery himself, or at the very least…take one to dinner.
Hope to talk soon,
Alright, that’s a pretty damn good email, am I right!?
So I cave…we chat, try to start again and see if maybe we DID have something…DO have something. The issue was, he was going to China for two weeks. No real explanation why at first, but he was leaving in two days and HAD TO SEE ME IMMEDIATELY.
“NO,” I tell him. “We’ve waited this long to see each other, don’t worry about it. We’ll chat, email, whatever until you get back and then we’ll do things again, from the beginning…the right way.”
He leaves for two weeks. Over the next two weeks, I get emails of half his head in front of monuments, weird foods, fun stuff…anything. By the time he returns, he’s been cultivating our meeting for nearly three weeks now.
When he returns, he wants to see me immediately but I had plans with a friend, so I invite him to join us at the movies. He’s polite, generous…all things are a go.
In the movie, he starts getting…touchy. It’s not like the previous post about “Dan” from the movie theater. This is more like a nervous touch. He’s rubbing my arms, his palm intertwined with mine…hot and wet.
After the movie, my friend and her boyfriend leave and we go to get a drink. I thought…things are good. He is good. We’ll have no trouble alone. Now may be a great time to mention that the first time around, I did see him more than one time. Things also happened that indicated he and I wouldn’t be a great match…in some areas…I hope you’re following this, because I feel too guilty to write it out. Regardless of what happened, I’m wiling to see if maybe it will head that way again down the road and maybe things will be fine. I’m enjoying myself and just want to focus on that.
He walks me to my car, kisses me like a Saint Bernard who rubs his big watery jowls on your leg as he brushes by and says, “I’m so glad we did this. I wasn’t sure what happened, if maybe I came on too strong…or geez, I don’t know. I thought you weren’t calling me because maybe I have a small penis…or something!”
It took him 3 weeks to cultivate something he ruined in 3 hours…the good news is, I know someone who can talk him through it!