10.08.08
Crazy Craigslist Ads: The “Sugar Daddy” Personal
My friend Lessley sent this to me today, along with some more, um, appropriate postings. My favorite parts are the details about the car (you can ONLY use one of the two of the five) and the juxtaposition of “READ CAREFULLY” in a posting rife with typos.
SUGAR DADDY LOOKING TO TAKE CARE OF SOMEONE -RESTRICTIONS APPLY!!!! – 35 (downtown / civic / van ness)
Reply to: xxxxx@craigslist.org
Date: 2008-10-04, 2:07PM PDTI don’t feel like bullshitting or messing around, so I’ll just get to the point.
I’m a pretty damn nice guy, but I have a grueling work schedule; I’m constantly flying around the world (I’m in the oil industry) and meeting with various people. This has seriously taken a toll on my dating and relationships. After thinking about it for awhile, I’ve decided to compromise. So I’ll tell you what I have to offer and then I’ll tell you what I expect. It’s almost like a business deal, but it’s really not, depending on how you look at it. It doesn’t really matter to me, but I think it would be mutually beneficial.
What I have to offer:
I have a pretty nice home in SF, but I’m not there very often – the pictures will show that. I love SF and I refuse to sell it. I’m there probably 7 months out of the year, if that. YOU, as my girlfriend, will be allowed to stay there and use all the amenities, which include a hot tub, pool, etc etc. I also have two cars (I actually have 5, but you are ONLY allowed to use one of the two that YOU may pick). I have a BMW 650Ci or a Mercedes Benz SL500. They are fully insured and as my live-in girlfriend, so will you. You may pick ONLY one, not both. The other 3 cars are off limits at all times.
There are no bills to pay as my CPA will handle that – you just live there, do your thing, NO PARTIES, and take care of the house, like a girlfriend/wife.
You’ll get a montly allowance and a credit card to do what you will – the card will have a limit, so you can’t go crazy on it, ok?
What I expect:
***READ CAREFULLY***
I expect you to be home when I’m there. If you can cook, great! If not, that’s fine. On occassion, when I have to go to Europe, I WILL invite you and you MUST come. I will NOT take you to Dubai or the middle east (I hate going there myself and avoid it at all cost). But Paris? Sicily? I’ll be more than happy to take you.
You ALWAYS have to look good – you’ll get a card and cash to make yourself pretty – when I have guests, you need to represnt VERY well.
Be prepared to travel extensively inside the US – NY, FLorida, Texas, Washington, and a few other states.
When I call, YOU Pick up. Always.
When I get home, you WILL take care of me in “other” ways. Absolutely no hesistation. If you do, our deal is over.
Essentially what I say goes.
But as you can see, I have a lot to offer – I WILL take care of you, but you have to take care of me too. That’s the deal.
Who knows, maybe you’ll fall for me. Or not. Doesn’t matter. I take care of you, you take care of me.
So here are a few more details:
I’m caucasian. You must be white or hispanic.
You cannot have any baggage whatsoever. Period.
You must be between the height of 5″1′ to 5″10′
Cannot be overweight.
Hair/eye color does not matter.Send a FEW pictures of yourself – regular, headshot, lingerie, bikini, nude..whatever. Just be “good looking.” What can I say? You can’t expect me to go shop in Versace in their Paris store with someone that doesn’t fit the mold, do you?
Can I Really Handle a Fling?
For a while now, an old coworker and I have been flirting up a storm. We’ll meet up for drinks every so often, sometimes later at night, and although it’s been strictly platonic so far, there’s definitely an electricity between us. And also a deep awkwardness. J. and I have known each other for a while. That whole group of coworkers is still friendly. It would be weird.
A few weeks ago, at a friend’s party, he barely left my side. The more we drank, the more he talked. “Why do you have to be so hard to get?” he asked. “What do you mean?” I said. “I’ve been trying,” he said, as if the effort was almost painful. “All you need to do is ask me out,” I told him. “Fair enough,” he said, sounding a little deflated.
That sort of thing — and many more obvious exchanges — continued for the rest of the night. I emailed him a few nights later, after I’d been out:
I apologize in advance if a) this is incoherent or b) I have deeply misinterpreted something, but I feel that there are numerous threads of conversations that we started Sat. night that maybe should be finished. So let’s finish them. Sometime. Sometime soonish.
His response: “Did I miss a booty call?” Sure, he was avoiding the topic, but it was kind of funny. I laughed. I admit it, I had developed a big crush on him. He’s a good guy, he challenges me intellectually, we make each other laugh, he’s good-looking, and he was complimenting me non-stop. What isn’t there to like?
More flirty emails were sent back and forth, until finally, we went out for a drink recently. We made awkward small talk at the bar. We finished our drinks, I invited him in to my house, we made less awkward small talk. And then he said, “So it sounds like we have some unfinished business to attend to.” He took off my shoes then took off his own, and we faced each other on my couch.
I laid out my position: It would be weird, yet I was definitely attracted to him and I definitely liked him. I told him I thought he was a good guy. And I said that part of me felt that we should just kiss and see if the whole thing has any legs before we let any of our mutual friends know.
He laid out his position: He’s definitely attracted to me, but he’s not convinced that things would work out between us. And he absolutely didn’t want anyone getting hurt. He agreed that it would be weird if all our old work friends knew, so we’d have to keep it to ourselves for a while. And with that, he pulled me towards him and started kissing me.
So we kissed. And like our small talk that night, it was awkward at first, and then it was more fun. Then it was really fun. When he left, he gave me a great goodbye kiss. I may have swooned slightly after I closed the door.
It felt so good to get that out of my system: months of build-up and then this nice, fun release. The intensity of my crush had, thankfully, abated. And for almost an entire day after, I thought, “A fling could be fun. I could do it!” I’ve never had a fling. It felt exciting. I would do it on my own terms, of course. We wouldn’t get too serious physically, and I’d stop the minute I felt like I was starting to develop feelings for him. I felt empowered by it all.
But then I reexamined the evidence:
- He was an hour late (he was meeting me at my house). I texted him after a half hour, and he apologized. But still.
- All his flirting has been pretty forward. Most of it was about how he thinks I’m hot. None of it was about my personality.
- I like him for who he is and who he is to me as a friend. His hotness is secondary to me.
- Our “conversation” about a potentially awkward subject consisted of about six sentences.
In those terms, it’s obvious, even to oblivious me. Things are starting off so imbalanced, that I’m definitely going to get hurt. I know he’s not using me (see previous references to mutual friends, who would kick his ass if he did, and to his being a generally good guy). But he’s just looking for one thing. And I’m looking for another. Kissing him, as fun as it might be, is not going to move me forward in my goal and will likely hold me back.
So, as sad as I am to admit it, I’ve realized I’m just incapable of having a fling. And it sounds like he’s either incapable of or uninterested in giving me anything more. Oh well. Sorry, J. I’ll have to break the news to you next time I see you. I plan to look fabulous, just to make absolutely sure you know what you’re passing up. But we’ll still be friends, man.
10.06.08
Finally, at 35, I actually enjoy dating
After D.D. and I broke up, he kept telling me how much he was enjoying dating other women. He felt energized from meeting new people and getting to know them, telling them his story and using that experience as a way to reflect on who he was and where he was in his life. In hanging out with different people, he was learning who was a good fit for him, who brought out the best in him, and what he did and didn’t want in his life.
Intellectually, that made sense to me. Emotionally, it hurt like hell, for many reasons besides the obvious one (couldn’t he have kept that to himself for a few months?). But I never really believed it could be true for me until I embarked on this little endeavor.
After he and I broke up, I felt like I knew what I wanted — him. But I didn’t. I didn’t know what I wanted and I didn’t actually want him, our relationship had run its full course. Once I realized that, I still didn’t know how to go about figuring out what I did want. I changed jobs — probably the best decision I’ve made in the past few years — and that opened up a whole new life. Suddenly, I started meeting all these great new people. For the first time in ages, there were possibilities.
I definitely think that part of my positive experience is a case of supply and demand. When you get to be in your mid-30s, there are just simply fewer single folks available. A guy I was flirting with a while back said to me one drunken night, “You are so hot! You are so f’ing hot!” And he said it like you’d say it in high school, like it’s an agony that’s almost too painful to bear. I’m definitely not hot. I mean, I’m cute. There are endearing things about me. But people have never lusted after me. It’s just that, of the available pool, I’m pretty cute. I stand out a little. And I’m totally fine with that. (That exchange boosted my ego — and mood — for WEEKS!)
Limited supply means we need to go for it a bit more. And it’s the perfect time to go for it. When I turned 30, a 40-something friend told me her 30s were by far her favorite decade. “I finally felt confident,” she said. “I knew who I was.” And that confidence, that self-assurance is attractive. It’s a virtuous circle: our good qualities stand out more because we project them, the available people are drawn to them, our confidence grows with the attention and positive interactions, we project more of our good qualities.
Plus I’ve met some really nice guys. Which makes this blogging thing very, very weird. I’m a pretty private person, anyway, so just writing this stuff down is strange enough. But I would hate for one of the guys I’ve dated to stumble across this blog and feel exposed. I remember when a close friend of an ex revealed to me that he found my personal ad on Craigslist. At first, I felt so embarrassed. He swore he’d keep it secret. (I absolutely trust him, but I never posted another ad on Craigslist.)
As such, I’m trying to keep a lot of the specifics and details of the people and dates secret. I certainly don’t mean for this blog to be an airing of dirty laundry. It’s really just meant to be about the process of dating; the ups and downs in the search for the right person for me. And that’s why I use initials (they’re often not even the real initials, by the way) and wait a while to post about something or someone. I feel very lucky in where my life is right now. So I’m doing my best to respect the people who are a part of my life or who have recently been a part of my life.
Still, it’s a bit of trial and error. So if you see yourself on these pages, and you feel uncomfortable, send me an email.
At the Concert: A Light Show, but Few Fireworks
The importance of chemistry, really, can not be overstated. I mean, it’s always there in the beginning (otherwise, why bother?), but when it fizzles out, what are you left with? Not to be crass, but I already have plenty of friends. I don’t expect fireworks for the rest of my life, but I’ve had the relationship where the flame dies out, and you’re friends who kiss — and only occasionally at that. I’ve also had relationships that keep a spark. I want the spark.
I should probably elaborate on the kiss with B. It was nice. Just nice. But you need to keep the expectations low for first kisses, right? There are too many other mitigating factors — extreme nervousness being the main one — that can make an otherwise good kisser deliver a less-than-stellar kiss. Mediocre first kisses are not a deal-breaker for me. Chemistry can still develop.
So when B. texted me a few days later to say his friend had extra tickets to Dave Matthews and asked if I wanted to go, I thought sure. I don’t love Dave Matthews, but my brother, a drummer, raves about their live shows and it sounded like a fun thing to do. Plus, I’d get to meet some of his friends. If you feel that you could hang with the guy’s friends, it definitely ups the long-term potential for the relationship.
B. met me at BART, and we drove over to the show. We bought some beers, ate burgers really quickly, bought more beers, and sat down with his friends. B. barely talked to me. He leaned over me to talk shop with his friend. He barely made eye contact. It felt like second-date nerves. I didn’t want to talk through the whole show, but the conversation was a bit forced. I was still feeling on the fence.
After, he gave me a ride back to the city, which was sweet. I invited him in, I offered him a glass of water, we chatted for a while, then I said I needed to get to bed. I figured, “OK, that’s it. And I’m kind of fine with it.” B. put on his jacket, and then he started kissing me. I was a little shocked, but it was better than the first time. At 1 in the morning, we said goodnight.
This is when my brain starts playing tricks on me. There must be some scientific study into the effect of smooching on a woman’s brain. The same pattern plays out with me: I kiss someone, I like them better, I want to kiss them more. It’s as if all these voices in my head are saying, “He’s nice!” “He’s cute!” “He’s interesting!” and they drown out the voice that says, “Hey, you’ve hung out with this guy three times now. And yes, all those things are true. But you still are on the fence about him. Maybe it’s time to move on.”
Part of why I’m doing this whole thing is to listen to that voice more. Because that’s the voice that says, “He is a great guy — for someone else. And you are a great girl for someone else. Stop wasting each other’s time.” Relationships begin and end every day, and it’s not about the individuals, it’s about the fit. I was overruling the part of my brain that said, “B. isn’t the best fit for you.” I continued to overrule it.
