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All posts for the month February, 2013

Back To The Unemployment Lines We Go

Published February 28, 2013 by mindfulofchatter

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Yesterday I was let go from my new job. It was time for lunch, but instead of lunch I got a paycheck and a ‘thank you, please don’t come again’. On the bright side, it was a sunny afternoon so the dogs and I took off for the dog park. It was much better than sitting behind a desk.

I knew something wasn’t right at this place. There has been a little niggling at the back of my mind the entire time. At one point I even thought to myself ‘I’m not going to make the 90 days here’. This is the type job I have been doing for the past 3+ years. I know how it works. It’s just getting the new rules of a new company down. I am good at this job.

I knew when I was called in the back office what was up. I’m not 23. I have been around the block a few times. I wasn’t upset, or scared, or even left wondering why I was called in. I was curious to know the ‘why’ I was being let go.

Boss: There is no easy way to say this. It’s just not working out. I take the 90 day probation period very seriously. I expect your best foot forward. You are not a good fit here. You aren’t warm enough. You do not seem to want to be here, or even in the building for that matter. We want you to have some feedback for your next position.

Warm enough? This is coming from the person who rarely smiles and has never once said ‘good morning’ to me. My friends are astonished at this. Several are have been at a loss for words. I talk to everyone, even the grumpy residents get a hello and a smile. I say ‘good morning’ to all the employees I see  and the guests. But somehow, I am not warm enough. And how do I seem to not want to be there? I am on time, I don’t take long breaks, I am not grumpy or snappish to anyone. And yes, I understand it could be a body language issue. And well, yes, it was true. I had bad feeling about the place.

Me: How am I not warm enough? I speak to everyone I see. I smile at everyone I interact with. I don’t understand how I am not warm enough. And I don’t understand how it appears I don’t want to be here. I like it here (true, I really liked the residents).

Boss: You aren’t a good fit.

So much for learning what I need to work on there.

Boss: The feedback I am getting says you have an attitude. I can’t have an attitude at the front desk.

Me: What kind of attitude are they seeing? I say good morning to everyone. I try to be helpful and learn more. I don’t snap at people. So I am not sure what you mean by ‘attitude’. I am at a loss here and would like to work on that.

Boss: You aren’t a good fit.

Wow. Tell me I suck, then give no feedback on why. Nice.

Boss: I have seen you roll your eyes.

Now this is down right ridiculous. I am not an eye roller type of person. My friend who has known me for 2.5 years said she has never seen me roll my eyes. Not once. If I have rolled my eyes, it was most likely in a joking, over the top dramatic way with someone I was having a conversation with. I tend to look up or down and close my eyes and slightly shake my head rather roll my eyes. And I try to do that when I am alone. But I don’t do it often. Boss, however, has rolled her eyes often. Especially when told a certain resident, or prospective resident, wants to talk to her. But I guess being Boss means you don’t have to follow all the rules.

Me: When have I rolled my eyes? Did I do it often? I would like to know so I can be more aware of what I am doing.

Boss: You are not a good fit here.

Okay. So you are not really going to help me improve myself in a work environment. Thanks, ever so.

Boss: You said you like to do projects, yet you seem to resent it when you are given one. ******* said she felt you hated doing them.

I have no idea how I ‘resented’ doing the projects they gave my to do. I folded calendars, I cut out index tabs, I tri-folded pamphlets, I sorted business cards, I did everything they gave me to do. Often humming or whistling under my breath while doing it. Maybe I seemed to resent it because I didn’t jump up and dance a jig when given 2000 pamphlets to fold. Seriously, would you?

Me: How was I resentful? I asked what needed done, and how you wanted it done. *looking at ******** for an answer* I’m sorry if my demeanor was mis-understood. I simply wanted to know how the project was to be done.

******* Wouldn’t make eye  contact. She just glanced at me, then back to Boss.

Boss: You aren’t a good fit here.

Again, no answers.

Boss: Other than those things, you were great at the job. I’m sorry you weren’t a good fit for us.

I almost laughed out loud, in her face. I’m great at the job, so that means you just hate me and needed some lame excuses to let me go. ******** never one made eye contact with me. (******* is the admin assistant. She rarely smiles either) If I looked at her for an answer, she looked at Boss. They just didn’t like me, so I had to go, but you can’t fire someone because you don’t like them. So they made stuff up, grasped at straws and refused to give straight answers.

I have been let go from jobs 4 times in my working life. Four. And two of those were lay-offs. So I must be good at something. Usually, you get let go because you don’t understand/can’t do the job, break the rules constantly, are always late, don’t show up, are sick all the time, take an hour for lunch when you get a half hour, or you screw up big time.

Or they are scared of you. You are smarter than they are. You are more capable than they are. You are a threat to their position within the company.

I have no clue as to the real why I was let go. It doesn’t matter to me. I knew it wasn’t right. I felt it in my bones. I knew this was coming.

I am happy I can move forward and find a company (and boss) more suitable for my talents.

Underwear – I See Paris, I See France. I see………….

Published February 26, 2013 by mindfulofchatter

NEW-HELLO-KITTY-MAN-MEN-S-UNDERWEAR-BOXER-BRIEFS-SIZE

Underwear. We all wear it in form or another. Oh, well there a few who go commando, though I doubt that is 24/7 condition. This, my lovely blogging friends and the inappropriate conversation I had a couple of weeks ago, got me thinking. And we all know where ends up. See what happens when I can’t get a date?

This will revolve around women’s under things as I have no experience wearing male under things. Sorry guys, you’ll just have to follow along the best you can.

Most people know about, and have seen a corset:

corset-back-front-drawing

What most don’t know about corsets, is how it feels to wear one. And I’m not talking the Fredericks of Hollywood spandex piece of crap with plastic stays you wear for 10 seconds. Nope. I’m talking the real deal with steel stays and steel busks. Corsets began life as a way to support breasts, like our modern bra. They morphed into a way to change our body shape to fit the current fashion trends. I have worn a real corset all day, many times. I used to do Victorian dress and Old West Re-enacting. Period clothing requires period underthings, which requires a period corset. Period. Over all, if a corset is made to fit your body, it isn’t bad to wear. How tight you wear a corset is your business. If I want to, I can take 2 inches of my waist in a corset. It isn’t all the comfy, but I can do it. And guys, you are not out on this corset thing. Men used to wear them too. Small waists with broad shoulders were ‘in’ for men. Corsets helped men achieve that look. Now, a corset is more for sex play, CosPlay, Gothic and the like.

After the corset, came bras. The brassiere  was designed by a man (of course!). As the 20’s roared in, corsets roared out. With the help of the bra, and Coco Chanel, the corset died a slow death in everyday womenswear. Hooray for our side! We won a small battle with fashion front.

After that, ladies underthings changed, morphed, grew larger, grew smaller, changed materials and all sorts of other things. We now have bikinis, hipsters, briefs, low-cut briefs (an old lady name for hipsters?), hi-cut briefs and the thong. Bras too, have changed. There are padded, unpadded, push-up, separating, underwire, no underwire, stretchy, lace, silk, animal print….the list goes on and on.

Men like tiny underthings. Or so they say. After years of conditioning by Victoria and her lack of Secrets,

victorias-secret

men will tell you they prefer the thong or bikini with a pretty bra that matches. I suppose we are expected to parade around in those things in our high heels with wings on our backs. But I doubt that happens much in the real world. But women being women, will go for whatever the fashion trend is. So they buy the thongs and pretty bras to impress the boyfriend or husband. We all want to look cute when the time comes to…….well, you know. Yet my experience has been that the guys look at the underwear for about 0.1 100th of a second. They aren’t interested in the underwear. They interested in whats UNDER the underwear. So that $50 thong gets flung across the room with little attention paid to it. Well, that was money well spent.

But all in all, underwear is not a topic for discussion. Especially on a date, or on a telephone meet n’ greet. My underwear just isn’t your business. Unless I make it so (wow! A Jean Luc Picard moment in a blog about underwear! who’da thunk it).

In that conversation I had a couple of weeks back, Mr. Insecure-How-Far-Can-I-Push-This-Conversation had the nerve to ask me about my underwear. We had been talking for about an hour, maybe an hour and a half. Now, a lot of women would have been insulted, unnerved or creeped out by this. I’m pretty sure many would have called him a few choice names then hung up. Some may have sputtered and fluttered and answered him because he would have pointed out their issues with certain topics and made them feel wretched about themselves if they didn’t answer. My response?

I gleefully told him all about my beige, cotton granny panties and stretchy AH bra. I even threw in the information that my cotton panties came in black (the sexy ones), dusty pink, mauve, green and one pair with flowers.

It may be a long time before he asks any woman about her underwear again.

Mission accomplished.

Studios, Junior One Bed Rooms And The Joy of Apartment Hunting

Published February 24, 2013 by mindfulofchatter

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I know this is random. But I can’t really control what the chatter is about. So random is as random does. Random box of chocolates on park benches. Or was that a bus stop? I dunno.

Where was I…………..oh! Random. Got it.

There seems to be a little bit if confusion with the landlords out there (as well as with the potential tenants) about what a studio apartment is. And to add a little more confusion to the pile, there are now junior one bedrooms. Who thought of that for a name. And what on earth is it?!?

A studio apartment means you have one largish room. Some are huge, some are downright tiny. But there is no defined bedroom. None. Oh, you may get a random wall to make it look less like one room, but you really get one room with a kitchen in the corner and bathroom. There is usually a closet stuck in there somewhere too. Though I did look one studio that had no closet. Well, okay, it had a broom closet they were trying to say was a wardrobe. I can guarantee Narnia wasn’t lurking in there. Anywhere. Asland wouldn’t have been able to wedge a paw in the sucker.

I live in a smallish studio. I have one big room with a kitchen and a little bathroom. My closet runs along one wall. There is a divider wall to create a ‘hallway’ and a little coat closet tucked into that hallway. It’s small, but tiny. I fit. My stuff fits. The rent is low. My trusty four-legged friend is welcome. I’ll call it home for at least a year, perhaps longer.

There is no such thing as a one bedroom studio. Got that? A studio has no bedroom. I repeat – no bedroom.

But now, there is a silly thing being called a junior one bedroom. WTH?? A friend is moving into a junior one bedroom, so I got to see a floor plan. The square footage is very close to what I have, but with more walls. This thing has a minuscule living room with a separate minuscule bedroom. The bedroom has no door. Yep, you read that right. The bedroom has no door. It’s just a doorway that goes from the living room to the bedroom. And it’s not as though the doorway is off to the side, or set so you can’t see into the bed room. Nope. That baby is front and center with a clear view into either room. The rent? Almost $200 more than I pay. And no, there are no breath-taking amenities to make it worth the extra dough. To make you laugh even harder, the bathroom is off the living room. It’s not even in the bedroom they so carefully created!

I don’t see the point of it. The space is now chopped up into tinier bits just to provide an extra wall. And there is still no privacy in the bedroom (Not that you need that. I mean, come on, studios are for one person only. No way two could live in mine for any length of time before one offed the other for more space). The cost of that wall is far too high.

I looked into renting a room in a house. It cost as much as my apartment. The same things were included, but all I would get was a bedroom and a few ‘house privileges’. Some had a shared bathroom. So……smaller space, no real rights as when I could use the kitchen or laundry, having to share the rest of the place with god-knows-who for the same price a private apartment. Most likely more noise, and being told to ‘turn that crap down’ now and again. Let me think *ouch*……..um…………..I’m going to say no.

I looked a few other apartments. Some don’t take pets (I question that upon seeing some of the residents). Some do, but they charge more on the rent. Some charge more on the rent AND expect a  hefty pet deposit. I find that unfair. Charge one or the other, or at least bring the pet deposit down if you are going to up my rent (and yes, Virginia, I do understand most people do not have well-mannered pets. Most shouldn’t have a pet at all. Including that questionable human they are passing off as their significant other).

My biggest complaint comes from the ads. They say things like ‘one bedroom studio’ (covered that), ‘small cottage’ (means converted garage or shop), rustic setting (it’s about 900 miles from any town and uses a wood stove for heating and cooking.), ‘Unique’ (usually above a garage with no place to stand upright because of the slanted ceilings, and/or the bathroom is in the kitchen or down stairs) and my favorite; ‘Cozy’ (so small you can’t turn around and open the closet at the same time. Or sneeze and expect to inhale afterwards).

Apartment hunting, like house hunting, is not fun. It’s exhausting, disappointing and depressing. I think this why people either move all the time, or entrench themselves and won’t leave unless they are pried out with crow bar and explosives. And just when you think you’ve found Eden, that guy/girl with that dog/cat/parrot/bunny/snake on a leash walks by and goes into the apartment right next to the one you just looked at, slams the door and turns Meatloaf up full volume. Damn.

Next!

Self Image And The Single Gal

Published February 18, 2013 by mindfulofchatter

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Here I sit at my computer tapping away to tell all you a little bit about whatever is on my mind. My mind started chattering again. I blame my yoga teacher. He has the flu, so no yoga last week. My mind had nothing to concentrate on, do it decided it was time to chatter on like a Chatty Kathy doll.

Which brings to my subject. Well……sort of brings me to my subject. Really, who out there even knows what a Chatty Kathy doll is?

Aha! I do.

Every morning, as I step out of the shower, I am faced with my own image. Like most of the people in the world, I see all the flaws. If its ‘wrong’ with me, I see it in a flash. I am too fat, too tall, too old, not pretty enough, too smart, or not smart enough. All of it. I began to think about this. No, not the flaws, the fact that I think what I look like, or how I am is ‘wrong’. There is nothing wrong with me. Okay, I’m a little weird, or  strange, for a 53-year-old human female, but that’s not wrong. Like Popeye, I yam what I yam. Hopefully that’s not squash. Or spinach. Lord knows I don’t need the anchor tattoos.

Being 53 and staring 54 in the face (my birthday is next month), means the pool of men is smaller and more difficult to navigate. Part of it comes from the fact that at this age, we are all a little more cautious. We have time and life under our expanding belts, loved and lost, have been hurt, have been left , have been treated poorly, whatever. For me, a large part of it is….well…uh…..me.

I am eclectic. I love a lot of different things. I don’t live and breathe any one thing. I live and breathe a ton of little things. My soul is younger than my body. My ringtone is Super Chicken’s battle cry. I know who Tom Slick is, and I can tell you why he’s the best of good guys . Bob Newhart, The Smothers Brothers, Tom Lehrer and Allen Sherman live in my ipod (Yeah, I know. A lot of you are lost about now) along side Will Smith, Bowling for Soup and Pink. I find Steampunk to be a total kick, and yes, I would gladly sew together a costume and hit a Steampunk event. I love to go the comic books stores and stare the action figures. Road trips to where ever for the day, lunches at tiny diners, exploring ghost towns, museums, history, art, theatre…. Oh! Look at THAT! Let’s go see what that is! To top it off, I am an intelligent being and can carry on a conversation without using the word ‘like’ every 5 seconds.

However, the men in my age range are more settled (some are TOO settled). They have raised families (some still are). They concentrating on retirement, money and being Mr. Straight Arrow. Many have forgotten how to laugh at the world and themselves. Life has caused them to take it all far too seriously. Some are put off by the fact that I don’t need a man. Others by the fact that I am as smart, or smarter, than they are. I can’t help that, and I won’t play dumb for the next 20 years to ease their egos. Some are still thinking that a woman 15 – 20 years their junior is the perfect mate. Some still want a wife/mother figure. I am so not your mom.

Me? I am happy with who I am. So I suffer from BSODD (Bright Shiny Object Distraction Disorder). So I have a couple of tattoos (Mine are 30 years old. I’m not hip enough to get one now). So what if I have more wobbly bits than I did when I was 40. I don’t smoke. I don’t do drugs. I pay my own bills. I laugh a lot. I’ve learned to be comfortable at a cinema or restaurant alone. I am not a trophy wife. I AM the woman who will love you to bits and then some, if you are the right guy.

So, in a fit of pique, I took down my dating profile. I’ve had enough of the men who want to email for the next decade before meeting, the filtering out of the creeps and jerks, the backhanded insults, the plain ol’ not too bright and the silence.

I’m happy. I’m healthy. My life is good. The rest will come.

 
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Happy Valentines Day

Published February 14, 2013 by mindfulofchatter

Geeky-Valentines-Gifts-Girls

It’s here. The big, romantic day couples wait for, or dread, depending on their point of view.

For those of you who have a significant other, enjoy each other (as you should every day), exchange cards, do something a little special. It doesn’t have to be a big thing (I’m easy. Get me a nice card and take me to a restaurant I don’t normally go to. No, I don’t mean expensive. Just not the diner down the block or HomeTown Buffet), just acknowledge your special someone.

Me? I am okay with being on my own today. My day will be filled with little chores such as dropping off my car for some work and taking the trusty four-legged companion to the dog park to play and run. I’ll have a couple of slices of pizza for dinner as my own little treat (I rarely eat pizza).
Unless, of course, my slightly-nerdy-slightly-geeky-meant-to-be-with appears and asks me to dinner.
Happy Valentines Day, everyone. Enjoy it in your own way.

When Dates Go To Fantasyland

Published February 14, 2013 by mindfulofchatter

confused_dragon

It’s nice to know you arent’ alone. No matter want the situation is, misery loves company. Well, happiness loves company too, but in the world of over 50 and dating, misery tends to take the larger cut. I say misery because the over 50 dating scene isn’t for the faint of heart. We all need to stick together to fend off the creepers and weirdos (in this sense, I mean weirdo in a bad way. Usually, I mean weird in a good way)

A girl friend recently attended a singles get together. It is a local group of singles who get together and have fun. It isn’t meant to be a meet (meat) market. They all just hang together. Sometimes they go to a local event or movie as a group. She met a man there who told her he had come just to meet her. Now that right there is either very romantic or very creepy. If you are into the guy, its romantic, if you aren’t – Creep City. They had a nice time, and she accepted an invitation to go out him again. The second ‘date’ was all right, but the aftermath? It seems Creep City just expanded its borders.

This is the email she received from him. Oh, my comments are in italics…..I mean really. How could I resist?

Hello Jennifer (Not her real name. Her real name is Peggy)  

(Okay, it’s not Peggy either. sorry),

That was a very interesting email. I read it several times to sure I have the true meaning of it. Meaning you reread it until you read wanted to hear You are a very insightful woman. I agree with most everything you said. I do have a bunch of questions. I thought an email would be easier than a bunch of text messages. As I said before, I really enjoyed spending time with you. I even told you I went to the *****group that night mainly to meet you. I loved the fact that you were open enough to go out with a guy that you just met (even though it was public and you drove). Isn’t going out with someone you just met the normal way you date? Aren’t most dates in public? Am I missing some new dating trend? In the three and a half hours we were together. I guess I am supposed to finish that sentence on my own. Like a Mad Lib. During some of the dancing, we danced very close. Later in the night I was about an inch from your face. I did it to see how close I could get and what your space was and how you would react (not to get a kiss). Yeah, because no guy ever pushes limits to see if he can get a kiss or cop a feel When I wanted a kiss I asked for you for it. In some of the emails I wrote you, Emails? Plural? Huh? I told you how special it was for me to spend time with you. Now for the questions. Oh goody. I do love a good Q and A!

1) Do you see me as a player, just looking for sex? After all, I did kiss you several times and told me you like the way I kiss.

A lot of people kiss on a first date. I am not seeing how this relates to you as a player. But now that you mention it…….

1A) If I kissed you before, won’t I try again (perhaps even earlier in the night)? I also wanted you to know that I wouldn’t kiss you if we were with the group, as you requested. However, I would hope for a hug when we meet. 🙂

You said you kissed me while we were dancing. Do you not remember that? Or was it so bad you blocked it from your memory. And now you want a hug? I am beginning to think you have me confused with some other woman.

2) Do you think I’m looking for some type of deep loving relationship?

We danced and had a few drinks. I have no idea what the heck you are looking for. ESP is not my specialty.

2A) Isn’t that against your feeling about wanting to get into a relationship?

Okay. Obviously you weren’t listening to me. I suppose you were too busy nuzzling my ear and drooling on my shoulder. ‘Never’ and ‘not right now’ are two different things.

2B) Wouldn’t that create friction between us if #2 were true?

Well, no. Since I have no idea what you are looking for, it can’t create friction.

3) If #1 or #2 were true, why would you go out with me?

Since you didn’t listen to a word I said all evening, I wouldn’t go out with you  again. Oh look, problem solved!

4) You gave me your contact information, will you ever call ME to go out?

Let me think a minute…………um………….no. Not even if hell freezes over.

5) If we go out, would that be a date? (or would we just call it something else?)

So sorry, hell has not frozen over. This is now a moot question.

6) You said that “I’m really so checked out on that entire life.” Do you see yourself growing old with someone special in your life?

I dunno. Do you see yourself as a player looking for a deep loving relationship? Or just a douche who has to write emails in bullet point format?

7) Are you more religious or more spiritual?

Wait. What. NOW you want to know my belief system?

This whole number system is, in itself, an annoying format. Then he takes it one step further by having not only a number 1, but a 1B, C, etc. It’s like trying to read an instruction manual. You have to keep going back and re-reading the other points to be sure you have put washer in right space. I mean, answered the questions correctly.

My friend has no idea what emails he is referring to. They have not exchanged numerous emails. He seems to have made up and filled in a lot of blanks about their ‘date’ that are simply not true. Now she will have to delete him from her life. And to top it off, he may have spoiled her chance to join a very fun singles group.

Yeah. Creep City has a new resident.

A New Photo Brings New Action

Published February 11, 2013 by mindfulofchatter

Garbo, Greta (Mata Hari)_01

All of a sudden, my dating profile as sort of taken off. I say sort of, because while I have had some new ‘action’, not a lot has come of it. And to be honest, I don’t expect it to.

I posted a new photo of myself. It far and away better than any of the old ones. Before I went to France, I bought a little digital camera for the trip. It has, as most cameras do, a self timer. So I focused on my chair, set the timer, plopped down. After a few tries, I got it mostly right. I don’t think anyone will miss seeing top of my hair. I mean, you can see I have my whole head and a not a Frankenstein flat top. Anyway, the photo came out very nice. So I posted it on my dating (I say that as if I actually have dates) profile. Ta-da! A dating profile complete with a very current ,in focus photo. What more could you ask for. Well, besides a date or two.

Out of boredom and waiting for the washer to run its cycle, I decided to look at profiles. I don’t why I do this. It tends to be an exercise in disappointment. But, being the glutton for punishment that I am, I plunged into the depths of profile searching.

Whilst searching, I got a message. *ping* It was from someone I had not had contact with before. So I answered, and soon we off on a message conversation. He finally  invited me to instant chat. We did that for a bit, then he wanted to call me on the telephone. Being ever so ‘what the hell’, I said okie dokie. (for those you who are gasping and thinking stalker/creepy dude/whatever. It’s okay. I listen to, and trust my ‘red flag instincts’. There were none here).

This man had a very nice voice. He sounded intelligent, and was funny. He was also insecure (not he would admit it – ever) and pushed the limits of proper conservation. I have talked to men like this before. I find them amusing. I see the holes in their stories. I hear what they are not saying. I let them talk themselves further into their cute little holes. Some people really need to learn when to drop the shovel. He tried very hard to run the conversation. He blocked his number from me. He tried to ‘jokingly’ insult me to get me answer off-color questions. I haven’t had such a good laugh in a very long time.

Him: You haven’t made any comments on my voice. I know I have sensual voice. Why haven’t you said anything about it?

Me (outside voice): Yes, you do have a very nice voice. I was just thinking that.

Me (inside voice): Seriously? You need me to compliment you 10 minutes into this conversation?

Him (after we been talking about double standards): Well, when women jump from bed to bed, it’s because they have low self-esteem. That makes them slutty. Men don’t do that. Men just like sex.

Me: So what if a woman just likes sex and sleeps around for the same reason? How is she is a slut and he is not a slut?

Him: Women don’t do that. If they are self-confident, they are in monogamous relationships.

Me: But she’s not a slut if she gives it up on the first date?

(inside voice) *LMAO* Wow. Live in the dark ages much?

Him: No. If the chemistry is right, why not? I hate the rules of kiss on a the first date, maybe sex on the third. It’s stupid.

Him: (as I am signing off): I think we need to meet. I want you to come here on Thursday and walk in the park with me. I’ll let you know what time.

Me: Maybe. I have a few appointments this week.

(inside voice) And I’m thinking no way in hell am I walking in a secluded park you, bucko. 

While all the is was going on, I got another message from new ‘suitor’. This was exciting! Three whole messages on my dating site in the same day! I was getting downright light-headed with giddiness. Well, until I read the darn thing.

Talk to me, doll.

What? ‘Doll’? Did he call me ‘doll’? I read it twice to be sure. Yep, he called me ‘doll’. I am a lot of things, some of them odd. But a doll? Um………no. The only men who get to call me ‘doll’ are WWII veterans. But I read the man’s profile to see if we could get past the ‘doll’ comment.

He claimed to be born in another country, but raised in yet another country. And he flat-out stated he was an alpha male ,but a gentleman. He even had a reference from someone he had dated on his profile. She said he was, indeed, an alpha male and not for the faint of heart. A gentleman, Intelligent and funny. I’m still not sure about having dating references on your profile, but whatever.

I am not faint hearted. I have no fear of an alpha males. Mostly I tend to confuse alpha males. Okay, okay. I tend confuse most males. But alpha males always kind blink at me like they have no idea what to do with me. My female friends tell me I am an alpha female, and this is a confusing situation for an alpha male who never met an alpha female before.

So I answered his message: Chit chat, or real conversation? Both are available. 🙂

So far, no response.

Alpha male, my sweet pa-tootie.