Tales of Wit and Charm…

RLO met the new guy I’m dating last night.  The guy that I’ve promised not to liken to a troll doll on the Internet anymore.  Oops, I did it again.   OK, starting NOW I’m not going to liken him to a troll doll on this website.  That one doesn’t count.  Right?

Anyway.  The point.  I have one.

RLO and the non-troll doll guy met for the first time last night.  Today RLO mentioned that the new guy was cool.  RLO’s opinion means so much to me that I mentioned it to the new guy.

Him: “So RLO liked me, eh?”

Me: “He did.”

Him: “Is that just because he thinks that I’m easily manipulated and that I’ll be sharing his workload.  The workload being you of course.”

Me:  “I’m not work.  I’m a hobby.”

Him: “I like that.  You’re going to be my new favorite hobby.”

This is where the conversation should have ended, but nooooo.  He felt that it was important to share with me an imaginary conversation.

“So what do you do with your spare time?”
“Oh, I listen to music nobody’s ever heard of, work on my motorcycle, and a dabble a bit in Sarah?”
“Sarah? I could never figure that one out–too complicated.  Had to drop that hobby the moment I picked it up.”
“Yeah, I hear you. But it’s supposed to have its payoffs–I just haven’t figured them out yet…”

I laughed and decided to keep him. For now.  But the minute this turns sour I’m totally blaming RLO.

Last night when I likened the new guy I’m dating to a troll doll he should have kicked me out of his house, forcing me to walk home.  Instead, he kissed the top of my head and continued to rub my arm while we finished the movie we were watching.

Either he really, really gets me or he has a well-hidden masochistic side.  Only time will tell.

The more time I spend with the new guy the more I don’t hate him.  And truthfully, I should hate him.  He laughs at me when I get angry.  Which, of course, only makes me angrier.  He then laughs harder.  It’s a never-ending cycle of abuse.

And if that weren’t enough reason to hate him, he didn’t know who Anderson Cooper was.  Tragic!  He also has the worst taste in music. He’s never even heard of Wilco or Ben Folds.  CAN YOU IMAGINE?

It gets worse. Way worse.

He forced me to sit though the worst sitcom in the entire world last night.  Outside of a replacement for waterboarding no one should ever be subjected to The Big Bang Theory.

And you know what?

This makes me adore him more.  FUCK.

To read this week’s column for In Utah This Week click here. This week I skip local entertainment and write about my dating life. I know, I know… zip it.

But really, how could I not talk publicly about a guy who didn’t mind when I rented this movie on his Blockbuster account:

OK, he did complain for a brief second, but I was able to talk him into it by batting my lovely long eyelashes. SUCKER!

Note to self: It’s flip-flop season, not high-heel season.  I HAVE to start dating shorter men as soon as possible.  My arches will thank me later. 

Last weekend I received an email that shook me to the core. No, not freebie bacon enhanced vitamin water offers, BUT CAN YOU IMAGINE? I would bath in that stuff! It’s funny that for someone who dislikes meat so much (insert your own dirty joke) to love bacon. I pretend it’s made from soybeans–tasty pig-flavored soybeans.

But I digress.

The email was from Flyboy, or Captain America as Rlo nicknamed him. Remember the summer I spend dating him? Me too. Sigh…

I’ve questioned my decisions to break-up with him for two years now. And with just one email I got the closure I needed. Flyboy was deployed to Iraq. Suddenly the future I played out so many times in my head with him was shot down. Just like that.

Death frightens me. It’s just so… you know, final. I know myself well enough to know I’d be a mess the entire time if we had stayed together. A mess that even a good Shiraz and Xanax couldn’t fix. All this time I’ve hated myself for ending things, and now I’m selfishly happy that I did. I’m not strong enough to deal with the fear of someone I love dying, day in, and day out.

I wish him well, and if I knew his girlfriend’s address I’d send her a case of red wine and a bottle of Xanax. She’s going to need it.