So So Cupid....

Here we go again;  hamster Kat just got back on the spinning wheel of internet dating.  I joined OK Cupid.  It's not even been 24 hours and I have two Doms sniffing around.....guess the submissive in me oozes out of my profile.  I have also already gotten into an argument with a man regarding creationism....who believes that shit??  AND he has two kids and believes creationism should be taught in school.  He warned me I was going to get struck by lighting.  If I haven't been smited by an angry God yet, I'm not too worried.  A very nice man sent me an email.  He is handicapped and in a wheelchair.  I am shallow.  I told him we were not a match.  Ugh, these guys are retards.  Just got this email, "How's OK Cupid treating you?"  I replied, "OK Cupid is treating me as I would expect a computer program would. And you?"  Lazy and stupid opening line.  This asshole carries on and on in his profile about how witty and articulate he is.  Not seeing it douche.....

On the quest for something extraordinary, OK Cupid seems like an unlikely breeding ground.  Maybe I'll get some free food out of it, or an aneurism.

Ho's Gotta Save Herself First

Well fuck.  The pull to be Captain Save a Ho after my weekend with Manhattan Millionaire has caught me by surprise.  "I can fix him!  I can make him happy!"  Has been looping in my brain.  I've been resisting the urge to be the Neosporin on his broken brain but this feeling has been compelling.

Thursday in therapy I launched into the recounting of my weekend with Manhattan Millionaire with all of the righteous indignation I could muster, "Didn't he see that I was incredibly empathetic to his irrational fear and was willing to do anything to make him feel better?  Doesn't that count for something??"  My therapist patiently listened before he chimed in, "Are you ready Kat?"  (Uh oh.  This is going to be a big fat oh shit bomb.)  "MM's bullying triggered your PTSD.  You weren't taking care of him, you reverted back to survival mode to protect yourself to make his abuse stop."  Woah.  He was right.

I've been crying since Thursday due to this revelation (and probably the hormones from the morning after pill still raging through my system.)  All of this hard work I've been doing and I still don't recognize abuse.  My therapist pointed out, "Many women would have told him to fuck himself, get help for his phobia, bag your shit!, packed up and never spoken to him again.  Instead, you made myself sick and put yourself at risk for serious health issues then spent the rest of the weekend catering to him."  FUCK FUCK FUCK.

Yesterday I told Manhattan Millionaire to pound sand permanently.  I'm setting sail for calmer waters.

Didn't Leave My Heart in San Francisco

It seemed like I ran a marathon to get to this weekend with Manhattan Millionaire.  I paid attention to every little detail in preparation of seeing a man I haven't seen for 27 years and have been speaking to for 5.  I was nervous and excited; the romantic in me hoped for a fairytale ending.  Disappointment was inevitable.

I walked in to the beautiful Chateau Tivoli, a Victorian bed and breakfast in The Haight district of San Francisco.  It was what one might expect; over the top gilded grandeur more suited for a brothel than a hotel.  As I was checking in, Manhattan Millionaire made his entrance gliding down the elaborately carved wooden staircase and sweeping me into his arms.  My feet left the floor as he spun me around in a tight embrace.  I then got a good look at him.  The  years had been kind.  He looked much the same as I had remembered with the exception of some gray at his temples.  He was a very handsome man and had retained his boyish good looks.

We retreated into the parlor and sipped wine on a ridiculously fragile looking Victorian settee.  We both giggled while commenting on our surroundings.  I could not believe I was finally seeing him!  3D after years of 2D communication!  We both were grinning like school kids with the awkward tension between us palpable.  I found it impossible to keep my hands from caressing his face.  Magical.

We reluctantly parted so I could finish checking in and change for dinner.  My room was beautiful with a fireplace and antique furnishings.  I took my time as I changed into my gorgeous Trashy Lingerie bra, panties and garters.  Hand made lace with satin ribbon trim which fit me like a glove.  I wore a blue chiffon cocktail dress which was form fitting, but left much to the imagination.  Finally, I slipped on a pair of patent stilettos, my black velvet coat and made my way downstairs.

Red flag no. 1;  he didn't say one complimentary thing about my appearance
Red flag no 2;  he hadn't made dinner reservations even though we had planned this trip for over three months

We left the hotel walking randomly on a quest for a restaurant.  We passed a jazz club and MM flipped because some jazz bass legend was playing there that night.  We got tickets, and a front row seat.  They had food as well but let's just say....er seared ahi with tartar sauce?  Really??  The show was good, the wine flowed and he started to pepper me with kisses and caresses.  We had another drink at the bar before going back to the hotel.  I was turning heads but he seemed oblivious.  I'm not conceited, but I know when I look good and I LOOKED GOOD.  We talked about birth control at this point and I told him I can't get pregnant but offered to get condoms.  He said he believed me and we went back to the hotel.

The lovemaking (I know, I know...even I gag as typing that but that is what it was)  was exceptional.  It was passionate, intimate, fun.....our bodies fit together like puzzle pieces.  We collapsed after several hours and slept with our bodies entwined.  This is where I wish the story ended......

Red flag no 3; MM woke up at 6 AM having a melt down that he got me pregnant

Saturday morning started in an emotional clusterfuck.  MM shared that a woman tried to pin paternity on him seven years ago and he was traumatized.  It had cost him a ton of money and even more emotional turmoil to find out he wasn't the father.  He has since developed a phobia.  I listened empathetically and told him I was willing to do whatever he needed to feel safe.  He shook it off and said that he knew it was his shit and we went forward with our day.  We went to the Golden Gate Bridge, Fisherman's Wharf, Musee Mechanique, saw the seals, drove down the world's most crooked street.....fun stuff.

Red flag no 4;  MM FREAKED OUT SEVERAL MORE TIMES OVER THE PREGNANCY THING!!!!

I had my doctor's business card in my hand dialing my phone in order to get the morning after pill a few times during the course of the day.  It seemed he had relaxed and we went back to the hotel when he told me to stop before I opened the gate.  Stupidly, I thought he was going to kiss me.  He brought up the morning after pill AGAIN.  I ONCE AGAIN calmly sat down, and dialed my doctor.  He was gone for the day.  I then googled Planned Parenthood and realized you could buy the morning after pill over the counter.  While I'm doing this, MM is RANTING about how he's not going to be trapped, I will NOT have his child etc.  Ok, I snapped.  Enough is enough and he had hit the limits of my patience, kindness and understanding that there is some mental short circuit in his head.  He Googled pharmacies and began to walk in the direction of the nearest Walgreens.  I told him I would go, get the morning after pill, run an errand I needed to do in The Haight and he could take care of his work and meet me later.  I was seething and he could hear it, "are you angry?!?" he asked me.  "Yes." I replied and he asked me why.  "1. You are getting insulting now.  You are calling me a liar  2. You could do a lot worse than to have me mother your child and you are acting as if I am scum.  3. You are almost 50 years old!  This is YOUR issue and now you are making it mine.....all we had to do was get fucking condoms!  and 4.  I DON'T WANT YOUR FUCKING BABY!  If i were pregnant this thing would have a date with a drain so fucking fast!!  I don't want your money, I don't want to be a single mom, I don't want a child!!!!!!"  Yeah, I lost it.

An hour and a half later, I texted MM and asked him if he wanted to meet me in the Haight.

Red Flag no 5;  MM apparently doesn't appreciate how far he pushed me and was now actually angry with me

"Not after you stormed off like that I don't...." he replied.  I called him and explained, "I don't know anyone that wouldn't get angry after a day like we have had.  I needed to walk away from you because I was going to say something I would regret.  I walked it out.  Are you going to meet me?"  He reluctantly agreed.  He showed up at Hobson's Rum Bar and still had an attitude.  I had bought a ukulele which he picked up and plunked on a bit, "guess this means you didn't run that other errand then huh?" He asked me.  "So you're gonna be like this huh?"  I said as I smacked the Walgreens receipt down on the table, "You owe me $48.31."  He examined the bill, handed me $50, "You can keep the change.  Can I have the package I just paid for?"  I gave it to him, then opened it, took the pills out....I put one in my mouth, showed him it was on my tongue, took a swig of my beer, opened my mouth again to show him it was gone, "would you like to check my cheeks to make sure I didn't pocket it?"  I asked?  I read the package and told him the second pill should be taken in 12 hours.

Red Flag no 6;  MM set the alarm and woke me up at 3:45 to take the second pill!

The rest of the weekend was uneventful.  There wasn't as much as a held hand or a kissed cheek.  There was some enlightening conversation.  Over the course of the rest of Saturday and Sunday morning, it became evident to me that he has Augsburg's.  What I had thought was him hiding a relationship, or just being a dick, or selfish really stems from the fact he has this disease.  He is incapable of empathy, social norms and situations baffle him.  He told me some personal and telling stories which made me come to pity him.  He is an incredibly successful man, as many Augsburg's patients are because they can stay task-focused.  He is gifted in math and music.  He told me he has never been happier than he is at this point of his life because he has distanced himself from people and spends his time with his algorithms.  The frustration I had with him is because I am analog and he is as digital as digital can be.  1 or 0, on or off, yes or no.....no gray areas.

I had to remind myself that I shouldn't get upset.  He didn't check in on me to see if I were ok after taking the morning after pill.  I texted him in a way I thought would resonate, and I think it did.  "The social convention would be for you to check in on me......"  He replied and seemed relieved because he admitted he didn't know what to do.  "You are wonderful...."  He texted me last night before once again falling off the grid.

This marks the end of me messing with my ghosts.  I got an answer, not the one I was expecting at all.  It cost me $1500 bucks, several days of hormone induced illness (with risk of stroke,)  and the death of a fairytale to get it.  Was it worth it to find out MM is Rainman?  No.  I'm done sticking my hand in the flame......

Crusty Old Geezer....Scrooged.

According to my horoscope, my intuition is in top form today.  My loneliness and confusion regarding love is top on my mind and this is the optimal time to open up with someone about my feelings with reference to the stars.  Finally, I am about to give up on love.  Just a little light message to take into my day.
I needed to get out of my house, and out of my head according to Foodie.  I am reflective while sipping some brazilian tea and observing the stream of hipsters that enter the Akasha coffee shop downtown Culver City.  I'm sad and I know why; I am Manhattan Millionaire's West Coast booty call.  There.  I said it.  Something wasn't sitting right with me and then I spoke to Mr. MBA last night.  "Come on.  You know what it is......"  I did, but I didn't want to admit it.  "Is Manhattan Millionaire going out of his way to see you Kat?  He has money correct?  In all of the years you have been talking he could have gotten on a plane and visited you for the weekend."  He's right.  I tried weakly to object citing all of the complimentary things MM has said to me and how awkward and excited he is.  All the nerdy sexting we've been doing.  Mr. MBA patiently waiting for me to run out of defensive steam before replying, "He's doing what is necessary to get in your pants."  Fuck.  He is right.  This is why he is my super secret male decoder ring.
I spoke with my aunt later last night and she reminded me it was Christmas and I should go to church, that is where I will meet a nice man.  She also had some of our good ol' fashioned Germanic pragmatic advice for me; "Quit aiming for the stars.  Settle.  Quit wasting time on past loves or worrying about the future.  Live in the now.  Go sing some Christmas carols."  I hung up and cried, not channeling the reason for the season but Scrooge.  Maybe she's right I should settle....my janitor did just ask me out.
I texted Manhattan Millionaire a frowny face and over a very brief text exchange I told him I'd had a rough day.  "You're brilliant and thoughtful and hilarious and wildly irresistible, if that's any consolation. :)" Was the last text I got last night.  I cursed at my vagina for the power it wields over men.
My intuition tells me that I must have the convo with MM and bail on San Francisco in Jan.  My loneliness is saying suck it up and just have fun and tap HIS ass.  I wonder which one will prevail.  Bah humbug.

\

Hope for the best...tuck and cover

It finally happened! Manhattan Millionaire is coming to California……it will be in almost two months at the end of January. I'm not sure my little heart will be able to last that long. I am again smitten. He is wonderful. I just need a strong reality check that beyond our (sure to be magical) weekend together in San Francisco, it is extremely unlikely anything will develop. He lives in Manhattan. I live in Los Angeles. Drag man. He is my Abelard and I love our chat affair we have going on. He called me Monday and during our conversation reminded me it has been (gulp!) 27 years since we last laid eyes on each other. I had lunch with AppleBottom yesterday and she was sugar coating the fact that I am a bit of an odd bird. "Kooky" is her code for weird. Her advice was to keep up with my activities…."continue on with that "kooky" class you're taking. You will meet someone that appreciates your, er, unique way." "You mean my improv class?" I questioned, not thinking that was very freaky. "Yeah, that…." she said. Hm. I spent the rest of the day contemplating what she was saying, I am so "kooky" that I will never connect with a normal man. By the time Mr. MBA called me after work, I was spinning. "I just have to not be myself!" I blurted out when I answered the phone. "Am I really that weird?" He started laughing, "you are going to work yourself into a fit by your date friday….." I think he started to reconsider our friendship when I told him the date was nearly two months away. As any good friend would, Mr. MBA reassured me I am not weird but interesting. I hope he is right. I have almost two months to become Kat 2.0, the best version of myself I can be. Eradicating "weird" would be a hopeless task considering all of the other work that must be done. Manhattan Millionaire asked me Monday why I am not dating now. "I want something exceptional." was my honest response. Is it foolish to hope the karmic wheel is turning and it is my time for something exceptional? I have worked so hard and made so many painful decisions over the last year. It would be nice to think that the universe would acknowledge that by throwing a hot, smart and successful man my way. Throw this girl a bone!

HalloWeHo

Halloween is my favorite holiday! This year, I dressed as the ring leader of the Dysfunctional Three Ring Circus me and my two besties have become known as. The quintesential fag hag that I am, I have retreated to the safety and security that is my gay family. I characterize hanging out in West Hollywood as being starving at a huge buffet where you can't eat anything. I will probably not get hurt, but I will not likely get laid either. The trade off is a shit ton of drinking.....couple of weeks ago my GayHusband bashed his head on a bathtub after a night of drinking and ended up with three stitches in his cute noggin. At brunch, our friends wanted to see his "bloody gash" and I commented that he was becoming more and more like me every day. (ewwwww! was the resounding response to that comment.) My fav lesbian, Daddy cut her finger tip off while drunk cooking...."that is like a lesbian circumcision!" I commented....(again ew.) I've recently face planted in my friend TheWitch's garden after a vodka fueled evening. I landed with a decorative rock in the small of my back. TheWitch noted I more 'wilted' into the dirt not spilling a drop of my cocktail and I got golf claps. The rush of people to help me was met with my desire to just stay there for a while. I took a mini dirt nap. We have had sprained ankles, knocked out teeth......it is dangerous out there. When not drinking I'm getting my improv on at The Groundlings. I've been feathering my nest which is looking amazing. I'm continuing my therapy which seems to be working. I just cut out International Playboy. The drink he promised repeatedly never materialized and that saying about never making someone a priority that makes you and option was resonating. The therapy must be working....that smacks of a modicum of self-esteem. Woah. Eventually I will have to venture out into the straight dating world again. For the moment, I am enjoying the fuckery that ensues in our Family Circus! Happy Halloween and Slut it UP!!!!

Save a Ho HELLZ No!

I am far from perfect. If you know me in real life you would know I spend a respectable amount of time beating myself up. I do tons of stupid shit yet I try to be better. I actually put in the effort.

As I get healthier, I shed those around me that are toxic. I find others are invested in keeping me weak, alcoholic, scared.....God forbid I get better, my "friends" feel worse about themselves.

Dare I say it...I'M HAPPY! I'M FUCKING HAPPY! I am living in a drama free zone. I have men courting me. I hike a lot. I made it through my audition (with 16 professional actors!) into the Groundling's core improv program. I have money in the bank.

There is a bittersweet quality to leaving friends behind. You want them to be the best they can be and hope they share that wish for you. One of my closest friends for the last 15 years has some major problems. She does/did drugs. I do not want her in my orbit anymore. I can't deal with it. She has turned another mutual friend against me....and last night I said something brutal; if you want a coke whore in your orbit...fine. Please respect I do not. She mentioned this to the other woman that texted me this; "Coke whore? You are such a pathetic loser piece of shit. No wonder you don't have a friend or a lover. Thank God I removed you from my life. I have been blessed with so much happiness and love since then. I hope you rot in your selfish pathetic life." Yup, sounds like someone well adjusted eh? Sticking up for myself is a new thing.

Realizing a friendship has reached it's potential is difficult. Realizing the limitations of those we love (including ourselves) is a lot of painful work. Bootylicious calls me "Captain Save a Ho." I might be short sighted to realize at the moment that the Ho that I have to save is myself. The time to let go of self-destructive behavior is now.