rantings of a single girl

I know when it comes to online dating, my techniques aren't perfect.  I'm sure I do a lot of things that are 'wrong' in the online dating world.  One thing I have never done and will never do is send a message that you can't make sense of.

What am I talking about?  Messages like: 'hey.' or 'r u married?' or 'u have a nice smile. so waz up?'  I think that's the biggest complaint I hear from women in the online dating world.  Nothing turns us off faster than to get incomplete and hard-to-comprehend messages.

Not only are these messages hard to reply to, they just don't make sense.  I know it's nerve wracking to come up with the first or second message.  I really understand that.  But if I can take the time to study someone's profile and come up with intelligent questions, then so can you.

So while I'm at it, I'll just throw my second message pet peeve out there.  Not only does the short message turn me off, but so does a message with bad grammar or spelling.  I'm not a total grammar-Nazi.  Lord knows I'm not perfect when it comes to grammar and spelling.  Yet when someone messages me with mistake after mistake, I start to think that they just don't care.  Kind of like writing 'r' for 'are'... could you please just take the extra two seconds to type the 'a' and 'e'?

So here is the bottom line, gents.  If you are wondering why women aren't replying to your messages, take a look at the content.  The solution just might be in front of you.

I've been having some strange dreams as of late.  I've been having dreams about my family that are relevant to the things going on in out lives right now.  That really isn't a big deal.  I usually do that when I'm really stressed.  I guess it's my subconscious way of working things out.  But what has been strange are the kissing dreams.

Yes, kissing dreams.

I've been doing A LOT of kissing in my dreams lately.  Kissing guys I've never seen before.... guys I'd never kiss in real life... all the way around to kissing guys I know.  And it's getting a little freaky.  Not only do the guys vary, but so do the kisses.  Some are sweet.  Just a little peck.  Some are tender and romantic kisses.  And some are just full on hot and heavy kisses that make me wake up and think "Damn!"

Maybe my subconscious is telling me that I need kissing.  Badly.  And by someone who knows how to do it (just to quote Rhett Butler).  Not that I don't agree.  I love kissing.  Kissing is amazing.  I actually think kissing is more personal and intimate than sex.  (In other words, I totally understand why Julia Roberts wouldn't kiss her clients in Pretty Woman.)  Kissing is fun, sexy, personal, and I love it.

Now, I just wish the kissing dreams would stop.  I don't have anyone to kiss.  And well, the kissing dreams are just leaving me slightly frustrated.

Last Monday I was visiting my grandmother in the hospital.  During our FIVE HOUR WAIT for the radiology department to come perform a CT on her, we had a lovely little conversation.  (My grandmother can talk your ear off if you let her.)

We discussed her illness a little bit and the fact that she knows she can't live alone anymore.  This is a huge relief to me, because I was afraid she was going to fight us on that issue.  I love my grandmother, but she can be REALLY stubborn sometimes.  (Wonder where I got that trait from...)

We also talked about my grandfather, his death, and how she feels about things.  She still misses him terribly... I mean, wouldn't you miss your partner of 64 years, too?  But she's more at peace with his death than I've ever seen her.  And I can't tell you how happy that made me.  I know she misses him and she always will, but hearing her tell me that she knew it was time to let him go suddenly made it easier for me to breathe.  She's finally come to terms with it.  Maybe she has been okay with it for quite some time now and I just haven't been willing to talk to her about it.

Either way, I'm glad we had the time to sit and talk.  Oh, the things I'll cherish.

Random side note: she did 'fess up to me that a little gentleman she goes to church with asked her if she'd like to go out to the local catfish restaurant to hit up the buffet.  She told him no.  "Thank you, but I've had my one love for my lifetime," she told him.  I said, "Aw!  You got asked out!  You've still got it."  She blushed.

Ya'll, my 93 year old grandmother has still got it.  Awesome.

I feel like I've been a bit Downer Debbie lately.  And I have.  Things haven't exactly been all chocolate and roses in my life.  As a matter of fact, I keep waiting for someone to come and light a bag of dog shit on my front porch... cause that would just make things even better.

Seriously though.  Between everything going on with my grandmother and the stress of work, my family really didn't need something else to worry about.  But now we do.  Our sweet baby dog, Z, has cancer.

He's had a huge knot on his head for a little while now.  We assumed he'd been digging around in the trash and someone beaned him.  Then the knot didn't go down.  It got bigger.  It's a tumor that has spread into his bone.  Into his skull.  My baby is dying is what it means.

We've know for a while now that he's sick.  But hearing it makes it real.  Now, he's lived his life.  He's 14 and he's been a very good dog.  Still the thought of him being sick saddens me.  Now we face the reality that if he doesn't just go in his sleep, that we'll have to put him to sleep (I hate the word euthanize).

Z has been with me for 14 years.  I can tell he's tired.  Once a vibrant, happy puppy that could hear a pretzel hit the floor from a mile away can't even hear a whole ham being dropped next to him.  He once would happily wait at the door for someone to come home... and now, while he's still happy to see us, it's a bit of a struggle for him to move about like he did.  So he'll just let you come to him.

For now, I'll just love on him.  And tell him that he's been a good boy through the years.  And that the world won't be the same without him.  He knows that, right?

I've been talking to a guy from OKCupid for about a week and a half now.  I'm nicknaming this guy Texter (not to be confused with Dexter) and wishing him well.  It's either that or have to bash my head in against the wall every day.  I opt for the big kiss off.

Every morning for the past week and a half I've received the following text: "Morning Sunshine!"

Then at lunch, like clockwork: "So, what's for lunch?"

Then around 6:00 PM: "How was your day?"

Around 9:30 PM: "Sleep well!"

I admit, it was a little endearing at first, but now it is quickly becoming a nuisance.  Honestly, dude, we JUST STARTED TALKING!  There is no need to text me 100 times a day.  Even if we were dating, there would be no need to text me 100 times a day.  Actually, there is no reason I can think of for anyone to text someone 100 times a day.

Here is the kicker that really, really made me mad though.  He sent me a text over the weekend.  I had a vicious migraine and had just managed to get to sleep.  He didn't know that so he sent me his usual lunch text.  I replied, "I'm sleeping & have a migraine. Will talk later."  Just as I had dropped back off to sleep, my phone buzzes, "Oh.  Sorry for waking you."

Damn it, man!  When someone says they are sleeping, don't wait 5 minutes and then send an apologetic text message.  Just shut up!

Adios, Texter.  Adios.

Gent and I are done with.  Just like that.  Which is kind of sad because I was really optimistic about Gent and was looking forward to a hopefully good second date.

And it did start out well.  We met up, chatted for a little while, then went to the restaurant.  The restaurant was very, very busy.  We had to wait about 40 minutes for a table, but that was okay.  We were fine squished in the corner chatting until we could be seated.  No biggie.

We were finally seated and we placed our order.  Thirty minutes had passed and we still didn't have our appetizer.  At some point, I managed to signal the waitress and ask her what the hold up was... I knew they were busy, but 30 minutes for an appetizer was getting a bit ridiculous.  She apologized profusely and said she'd go check.  Then Gent said something that I will not repeat.  But it was a rather racist comment.  I just sat there for a minute thinking maybe I heard him wrong.

The waitress came back with our appetizer, again, completely apologetic.  I told her it was no big deal and thanks for checking on it.  As soon as she walked away from the table, Gent made another racist comment.  This time, it was slightly worse than the first one.  I, like an idiot, just let it slide.  I kept telling myself I heard wrong.

So, after the appetizer and some decent conversation, we realized that 45 minutes had passed and we still didn't have our meal.  Once again, I had to catch the waitress (who was in near tears at this point because she was so stressed) and politely asked her if she could check on our meal.  She was no more than two feet away from our table when Gent made another racist comment to not only the waitress but also majority of the staff in the restaurant.

At that point, I'd had it.  I stood up, thanked Gent for my 'dinner', and walked out.  I was fuming mad as I walked back to my car.  I couldn't believe I'd let him get away with that behavior twice before I did the right thing and left.  I know racism is still something that happens.  Especially in the South.  But that doesn't mean I have to sit there and listen to it.

Turns out Gent is only a gentleman if you meet the race requirements.  What a loser.

I've been a BlackBerry girl for about three years now.  And I love my BlackBerry... even if my Pearl did take a nose dive into the unrepairable software graveyard.  So when AT&T FINALLY let me upgrade, I chose the BlackBerry Bold 9000.

Now I debated over the iPhone.  My sister has one.  My dad has one.  I admit they are sleek little phones.  But I just couldn't abandon my CrackBerry, er, um, BlackBerry.

The Bold has everything I want.  Email capabilities.  A full keyboard (I don't do touch screens well).  Track ball instead of the 9700's trackpad.  Wi-Fi.  And it's the only BlackBerry that's 3G capable.  So whenever my service area gets 3G (sometime this year according AT&T), then I'll be ready.

Now, I'll admit BlackBerry App World isn't anything compared to Apple's.  Actually, it sucks.  But I didn't buy the phone for the games.  I will say that the Pandora App and UberTwitter are completely worth the download if you own a BlackBerry.  And maybe BlackBerry's App World will expand in the future.

Another con is the battery life.  If you leave/use Wi-Fi all the time, then your battery life is going to go down the tubes.  Turn off the Wi-Fi (at least when you are not using it), your battery will last a good while.

Pros and cons aside, I'm thrilled with my upgrade.  Hopefully the Bold won't totally die like my Pearl did.  Check with me again in three years... we'll see what happens.

Imagine my surprise yesterday when I got home after a very, very long day at work and my arms loaded with groceries to find a trail of red from the door to the kitchen.  My first though?  "Oh my.  What mess this is.  Let me just clean this right up."

Yeah.  Right.

"Holy shit, what the hell happened here?" was my first thought.  Then it was, "Oh my god, it's my cough syrup.  Where the hell is the cat?"  So I drop the groceries, tap dance around the cough syrup, madly calling my cat.  WHO WON'T COME OUT FROM UNDER THE BED... cause she knew she was in some deep trouble.  Once I realized she was alive and perfectly well, then proceeded to yell at her for managing to get THE CHILD PROOF CAP off my bottle of cough medicine.

Have I mentioned that it was a brand-new bottle?  Like I've only had one dose of the stuff?  And my cat spilled it everywhere.  I mean she not only got the cap off, but she scooted the bottle ALL OVER THE DAMN HOUSE.  So while I was mopping up red cough syurp, my cat was sitting on the bed looking at me like 'whatcha doing that for, Mama?'  Probably high off the codine.  Bitch.

Anyhoo. I finished cleaning up the cough syrup only to discover that MY HANDS ARE RED.  Red, people.  So I scrubbed them with some soap.  I scrubbed them with some rubbing alcohol.  I scrubbed them with some stain remover.  Then I made a plea on Twitter.  Lemon juice and baking soda.  Acetone nail polish remover.  Bleach.  Tried them all.  My hands are now a lovely shade of pink with tinges of red around the fingernails.  I HAVE A DATE SATURDAY NIGHT PEOPLE!  I'm going with chapped, dry, and PINKISH RED HANDS.

If that wasn't bad enough, in my scurry of cough syrup madness, I left the ice cream in the car.  Damn it.

Sometimes I wonder how different my life would be if I had slept with my first boyfriend.  I think if I had, my life would be dramatically different.  Why didn't I?  Because I was 16 and wasn't ready.  Well, I was pretty sure I wasn't ready, but he sure was.  So he slept with another girl and got her pregnant.  Needless to say that was the end of our relationship.  And I was crushed because he was my first 'real' boyfriend (as long as you don't count the little boy who kissed me in kindergarten).

But that could have been me.  I could have been the girl who wound up pregnant at 16.  Or one of the 3 other girls he got pregnant.  (Apparently no one ever told him how condoms work or that they even exist.)  How different my life would be?  I could have an eleven year old right now.  Eleven!  The mere thought of that makes me dizzy.  (By they way, it's not that I didn't know about safe sex at 16, it's just he could've charmed a snake back then.  Then again he couldn't charm the pants off me, so ha.) 

Either way, because of him, I waited another 4 years before I would even contemplate sleeping with someone.  (And when I did, I regretted it but that's a different ball of wax.)  So I guess I have the first boyfriend to thank for making me wait a little bit longer.  And for giving me a first hand look at what could happen if you don't take proper precautions.