A little update on Lucky #13

As you know, if you read the last entry, I have met someone during this experiment to find Mr. Right.  I said it was 13 of the 26 ways I had listed.  Truth be told it was actually #10 as I used three different references to on-line dating.  Word to the wise, Zoosk is the only successful dating app I have come across.

Ben, that's his name, and I have been dating for almost three months and it is going very well.  We have so much in common there is never a dearth of things to do or talk about.  Conversely, there are enough differences in our tastes to keep things interesting.

He is teaching me about his culture (Filipino) and I am teaching him about mine (Southern and American).  We have survived shopping for furniture for my new apartment and putting together a shelf with nary a scratch, physical or emotional, which is a very good sign.  He's teaching me to be more patient to others while driving and I am teaching him how to batch cook for the week and to use American Southern idioms in casual conversation.  I call him 'Baby' and he calls me 'Boo-Boo', although when I showed him my casual and dress closets, he called me "Imelda" as in Imelda Marcos, she of 3,000 pairs of shoes fame.  He does appreciate my skill in finding great clothes on clearance sale and at thrift stores.  His wardrobe has significantly picked up some style and color since we've been spending time together. Although he likes them on me, he doesn't want his own pairs of colored pants and I'm supportive of that.  You can only have one peacock per relationship. 

I have no real frame of reference for a successful relationship as I have only had one real relationship and it was toxic and ended in 1997.  Everything is going well and I am happy.  He's very quiet and somewhat introverted around others and refers to himself as "boring", but I find him intriguing and intelligent and we have the most interesting conversations about philosophy, theology, politics, the royal family, books, music.  For someone 10 years younger and from another country, we have remarkably similar frames of reference for popular culture.

I'll keep you posted on everything as we move forward, but if anyone wants to use the 16 additional ways to Not Meet Mr. Right, comment below and I'll gladly share with you.  Who knows, maybe you'll find your Mr. Right.  I think I did.

13. Meet Mr. Right Through Online Dating Part 3

              One thing you must know about me is I am tenacious.  I may appear to complain and poor mouth about things that don’t go my way and I may verbalize giving up but I don’t actually give up.  I am ridiculously optimistic in that respect; I continuously move forward as though things will work out even when I don’t necessarily believe they will.  There is something inside me that won’t give up.  I like to think it is a deep-rooted faith in God and His will.  Although it could simply be I’m as stubborn as The Dad is ornery.

                Case in point, I was not having much luck (as you’ve read) on OKCupid or Match.com or any of the other sites whose commercials lie to you about your chance to find love, when I received a message from someone asking if I was frustrated with OKCupid and, if so, to try Zoosk.  As I was indeed frustrated, I opened a Zoosk account, completed the profile, posted recent photos (unlike most everyone else on the internet) and was pleasantly surprised to find I was asked to video myself talking in order to verify I was indeed the person in the posted photos.  I like me some Zoosk y’all.

                I opened my account the week before Christmas and immediately began chatting with several people.  I spent Christmas in the bustling metropolis of Dayton, Ohio, with my family and was only able to communicate through the site and even then at infrequent intervals as I was very busy shopping, eating, playing cards, reminiscing, laughing and watching a one year-old play with four dogs, one cat and 1,645 toy horses.

                When I returned home, I had a nice date with a Vietnamese gentleman who took me to his favorite authentic restaurant.  Authentic meaning the signage, menu and language spoken was Vietnamese.  I had to ask my date what he ordered me.  Whatever it was, it was delicious but as is the case when I eat authentic Asian food, I suffered gastric distress, luckily only after I was alone in my home post-date, which ended very soon after the meal.  I knew he wasn’t my intended betrothed so I didn’t feel bad fleeing into the night.

                I then agreed to meet a very cute Filipino CPA who is 35 and, like me, fond of non-fiction and Karen Carpenter and not a fan of spicy food and flip-flops.  We had a fantastic afternoon date at the Third Street Promenade in Santa Monica which lasted for 7.5 hours.  We shared crepes, iced tea, laughs and a long walk with wonderful conversational topics ranging from literature, politics and religion to the British Royal Family, real estate in Mississippi, the proper pronunciation of ‘pecan’ and the definition of ‘boonies’, both in America and the Philippines.  I have never had so much fun achieving my FitBit step goal.  Dates 2, 3, 4 and 5 followed in quick succession.

                This past Sunday he agreed to attend church with me and I warned him, “People are going to want to know who you are. I hope you are prepared for an onslaught of hugs and pointed inquiries as to your role in my life and/or reasons for church attendance.  Oh, and you'll also get a rainbow teddy bear; it's our church's 'thing'.” 

                Ben, his name is Ben, replied, “I’ll just tell them I am your boyfriend and then I’ll just smile.  I’m Asian; they won’t be surprised that I’m quiet.”  My boyfriend, y'all! 

               I am cautiously optimistic that on my list of Ways to Meet Mr. Right, #s 14-26 will be left for someone else’s blog.  Don't worry, I'll keep you all in the loop.

 

Let Me Get You Up To Speed...

     I don't want you to think I have abandoned you, dear readers.  Quite the contrary, I have been busily attempting to date far and wide, and by far and wide I mean Southern LA County and Orange County, which is not geographically large but is time-consuming to traverse.  We measure things in how long it takes to get there as opposed to how far away it is.  For instance, I live 11 miles from Santa Ana, California, but it can sometimes take 45 minutes to get there, so when looking for my future husband, someone residing 30 miles away might as well be in Upper Michigan, y'all.  Seriously.
    But, on to the search:




7.  Meet Mr. Right at Work - While this is not strictly forbidden, it is not recommended.  Just like in the military, as an executive at my hospital, I'm not supposed to fraternize with anyone if I could possibly influence their career.  It's true, y'all; I'm kind of a big deal. 




8.  Meet Mr. Right Through Mail Order - I can't say for certain, but I feel fairly sure this is illegal.  If it's not, it is at the very minimum unsavory.  No offense to any mail order spouses that number among my readers. 




9.  Meet Mr. Right In Palm Springs -  I spend at least one long weekend per month there so I know there is no shortage of momos (what I call gay men).  In PS, I am among my people when it comes to my wardrobe although, full disclosure, they are wearing purple chinos to play golf, I am wearing them to go buy more colored chinos.  And I really did intend on leaving the house to go out and about and meet people but somehow did not find my intended betrothed while eating breakfast at my favorite diner (Don and Sweet Sue's) or shopping at Stein Mart.  And for some reason, there were no eligible men waiting for me in the living room while I binge-watched The Fall, Seasons 1 and 2.  Had there been a man there, I may have fainted dead away or been murdered.  Either way it didn't work.




10.  Meet Mr. Right at Church - I attend an open and affirming church so there are a number of momos there, but most are already coupled.  Interestingly most of the couples are white guy/Asian guy.  I feel pressured to align myself similarly.  There are about five single men from whom I could have made a selection but four of them are not my type and the fifth is Jack to my Will.  He's my Heather and I am his Heather and we are funny and sarcastic together at brunch after church; sometimes while eating donuts before church.  I wanted to find Mr. Right at church or at least a Mr. Right I can take to church.  Church is gonna be in there somewhere, y'all.  I love me some Jesus!  Can I get an Amen?




11.  Meet Mr. Right While Performing Stand Up Comedy at Open Mic Night at a Coffee House - I don't know if I expected someone to take off their shirt and throw it at me while I was performing but it wouldn't have killed someone to have yelled out some random comment about my sexiness or try to buy me a drink or at least a cheddar/chive scone.  All I got from the audience was applause and appreciative head nods from the Neil Young contingency performing their guitar solos after I sat down.  Maybe my expectations were a bit off?




12.  Meet Mr. Right at an Improv Class - I started taking an improvisational comedy class on Saturdays to have fun but to also improve my active listening skills.  It was apparent I needed to improve my skills as I didn't listen to my scene partner and ended up somehow summoning a demon in a manner I still am unable to describe coherently.  I did have fun demonstrating how to put an Easter bunny hat on an angry cat, ignore a customer at the airport and describe the word diagnostic using only my eyebrows.  Maybe the one single guy in the group was intimidated by my awesomeness?  Yeah, that has to be it.




      So far, the list hasn't worked and I haven't found my person, but I am a patient man.  I may have to repeat #3 (online dating) as I have just discovered a new dating app called Zoosk, which is named after the Patron Saint of Displaced Southern Gentleman Looking for Love in Southern California or War. I can't remember.  Wish me luck.

6. Meet Mr. Right Through Brunch With Friends

            My church is always trying to get me to exercise.  They find clever ways to make me get out and about on foot.  One way is downright sneaky; they promised brunch in the middle of a two-mile walk.  I will exercise if the food involved is actual food and not some gluten-free, vegan, tofu thingamabob. I don’t mind “bobs”, per se, I simply prefer them to be at the end of a “ka”, as in KA-BOBS, which is Persian for “meat stick”.  I think.

                Anyway, I was tricked into walking and it was August so I dressed appropriately.  August in SoCal is like August in Mississippi with a barely noticeable difference in humidity.  In other words, it is hot as a firecracker, y’all.  It is the only explanation for my ensemble which set an inaccurate precedent for the budding relationship that would come from this serendipitous brunch.  My ensemble was plaid walking shorts, a navy polo shirt, tennis shoes and a ball cap.  I looked like everyone else near the beach, well everyone that was wearing actual shoes and a shirt.  Yes, I know, I was disappointed but too hot to care.

                Once we completed our trudge in the heat, I was pleasantly surprised to find someone I didn’t know had joined our little group.  He was the friend of a friend and was just the nicest man.  We had a great time laughing and talking and I had planned on exchanging numbers before we left but I was sidelined by the goodbyes.  When a group of gay men depart, it’s like Bid Day at a sorority; hugs, tears, the occasional song.  Before I knew it he was gone and I was numberless.  Thank goodness for Facebook.

                After a little Facebook stalking on his part, he found me, messaged me and we agreed to a brunch date.  I knew he hadn’t seen my normal wardrobe and I know my clothing style is more than some people can handle, so I attempted to dress down as it were.  I paired a fuchsia polo with navy chinos to lessen the drama and hoped he would fall madly in like on our first date and I could then bust out the brighter colors in the casual pant section of my closet.  He didn’t seem to notice, which is unusual for a gay guy but I wasn’t mad at him, people.  I like my guys to be guys.

                Our date lasted 8 hours (including a sand-castle building competition) and we had a blast.  We made plans for the following weekend but he called me on Tuesday to ask me to dinner with friends and I agreed.  I mentioned I would be wearing clothing unlike he was used to but he said he didn’t care what I wore.  I arrived in teal chinos and a navy polo and he didn’t bat an eye.

                We then proceeded to date for several months.  You can tell I really liked him because I voluntarily agreed to ride bikes around Balboa Island and didn’t even scream, cuss or kick the bike when he caused me to wreck.  He had suddenly pulled in front of me on the street and when I went to use the hand brakes, I realized there weren’t any; the brakes were on the pedals, old-school style.  We ended up in a heap with me bleeding and repeatedly telling him I was fine even though I lost about 11 gallons of blood.  When I told my sister what happened, she said, “Did you throw the bike in the water?”  When I said no, she replied, “Wow, you must have been trying to impress him because I’ve met you before and you would’ve stomped or thrown that bike.”  As if.

                Although we had fun on all our many dates, nothing ever seemed to move into the romantic realm.  We hadn’t held hands and it was date 10; not even on a harbor cruise which is supposed to be very romantic.  Apparently being Vietnamese caused him to be more uptight about PDA than even me.  When you are so conservative you make me look seem Sandy at the end of Grease, you may have a problem.  I attempted to hold his hand once in the movie theatre and he took my hand and put it under his leg and sat on it.  I didn’t quite know how to respond so I left it there for a few minutes while I processed the fact a grown man was sitting on my hand. 

                Needless to say, it wasn’t looking good for us.  The final straw came when he invited me to a potluck at his church.  I thought it might be a good idea.  Maybe he was getting more used to dating and would eventually get over his issues with PDA.  In selecting my outfit for the occasion, I decided to go with a more subdued palate as he attends an Episcopalian church and their clothing choices are more Dame Maggie Smith than, well, me.  He met me at my car and when I alighted wearing light gray chinos with a pastel plaid button-down, he said, “Oh thank God you didn’t wear one of your outfits.  I was scared of what you’d look like.”  I was so offended I could only make it down the buffet line once, plus a dessert run.  What?  It’s free food at a church.  You don’t pass that up.  You just don’t.

                On to #7 - Meet Mr. Right at Work

5. Meet Mr. Right at a Sporting Event

            There are times when I surprise myself and agree to activities I normally would not.  On Valentine’s Day weekend (2016), I was asked by some sportier friends if I wanted to attend a  N.A.G.A.A. (North American Gay Athletic Association) softball tournament in Palm Springs.   While I am almost never a participant in sports, I can sometimes be convinced to observe, based mostly on the quality of items at the snack and peripherally on the attractiveness of the athletes.  Softball is reasonably un-boring and this particular location had an air-conditioned restaurant with great views and a menu filled with all things fried.  I acquiesced. 

                Unsure of how to dress for such an occasion, I decided to wear my sportiest article of clothing – a V-neck (tennis) sweater vest in aqua blue.  I paired this with a white polo, navy chinos with a very subtle, tone-on-tone micro-dot and my white leather Coach tennis shoes.  The literal topper was a jaunty baseball cap I received as a gift from the US Senate.  And by gift I mean I bought it at the Hart Senate Office Building Gift Shop. 

                We arrived and I found the snack bar very much to my liking and most of the players were attractive and talented.  Quelle surprise!  We watched one game while I savored my basket(s) of fried things (pickles, potatoes (both fry and tot), chicken).  After the feast those who actually wanted to watch the games wanted to move outside.  I acquiesced again as I had agreed to this activity and apparently you have to watch sports from a seat near the field. 

                After a bit, my multiple iced teas came full circle and I had to get up and find the restroom.  On my way back to the snack bar (the location of the restrooms, not to eat more food) I noticed an attractive gentleman of Asian descent wearing a softball uniform, looking at me and smiling.  Unused to being “checked out”, I returned the smile but felt I needed the input of my more worldly friends before I actually instigated a conversation.  When I returned to my seat I was delighted to know my friends were as delightfully nosey as necessary and had witnessed the events.  They assured me I was indeed being checked out.  I love me some nosey gays, y’all; in context, of course.

                Normally I am disinclined to believe someone is interested in me but before I could talk myself out of it, I walked over to this gentleman all bold and whatnot and said, “Hi”.  He smiled and introduced himself.  He complimented me on my aqua blue sweater vest, stating, “I noticed you as soon as you walked in.”  This is the reason I am dressed well no matter what I’m doing.  It gets you noticed, people; a little tip from your Uncle Dusty.

                We talked for a bit and he told me he was “into 420”.  I didn’t know if this meant his team was doing well in the tournament or some other athletic thing so I said, “Oh, that’s good.  I’m not a huge 420 fan, but you should do what makes you happy.” 

                We had our first date later that night at Starbucks and had the most wonderful conversation.  Initially he wanted to meet at a bar but, you can’t talk at a bar, especially after an athletic tournament.  There are far too many people yelling, singing, Woo-Hooing.  Have you ever witnessed a quietly chatty intoxicated athlete?  I didn’t think so.

                I discovered he lived in Las Vegas and our second date was planned for the following weekend.  As I am 45 years old, I thought it would be a great adventure, plus it’s only a quick flight from Long Beach.  I had never spent the weekend with someone but since I was at least 4 inches taller and had about 40 pounds on him, I felt I could protect myself should he decide to try to murder me.  However, I left all his info with my friend Jamie just in case I disappeared.  I mean, it is Vegas.  Why do you think they based the original CSI there?  It’s not because of their awesome police force.

                The weekend was very revealing, to say the least.  As I am not a fan of gambling or buffet eating, I find little reason to go to Vegas, but I actually enjoyed myself.  To my dismay, I discovered 420 meant marijuana.  As you know I am fiercely anti-drug, even marijuana.  Don’t worry, he has a prescription but apparently under Nevada law a prescription for medical marijuana allows you to grow your own marijuana…in your garage.   

I’m sorry, but dating a marijuana farmer is not the narrative I have written for my life.  Sadly, I had to bid him adieu and we said goodbye forever, at the airport, standing beside a slot machine, in a cloudy haze emanating from a nearby elderly gambler squandering his Social Security check and exhaling smoke from the hole left by his tracheotomy.  Ah, romance.

                On to #6 – Meeting Mr. Right through Brunch with Friends.

4. Meet Mr. Right Through Volunteering

             Even though OKCupid was 37 kinds of ridiculous, I still held out hope because, well, I had paid for hope.  The last straw came when my profile as liked by a gentleman who was a newly married bisexual man with a bisexual wife and they were in an open marriage and he wanted to meet me.  I am unsure what in my profile gave him the idea I would be interested in that type of interaction, but he had clearly mis-assessed the situation with little old vanilla me. 

                So, I returned to my list, saw Volunteering as the next avenue and decided to wait and see what would present itself.  I volunteer at my church and with the Transgender program in Orange County but those had offered no options for husband material. 

Now, I have always been someone who has an altruistic nature; I have long volunteered for all sorts of organizations and of late have been focused on trying to be the person I needed when I was younger, which led me to PFLAG. 

                PFLAG is Parents and Friends of Lesbians and Gays.  I first heard about it while watching the movie Reality Bites and never thought much else about it as there were no PFLAG chapters in Mississippi until very recently and even now there are only three chapters in the state.  There are three chapters within 10 miles of my house in SoCal, so I have an opportunity to get involved and be part of the support network for gay, lesbian and transgender youth. 

                I was invited to my first PFLAG meeting by an activist I met at a screening of a fantastic documentary called Equal Means Equal.  It’s about Women’s Rights and you need to see it as quickly as you can.  Get thee to an art theatre!  Ms. Activist is an active member of many, many organizations and PFLAG is but one.  When she asked me how I gave back to my community, I told her about some of my volunteering but she told me I could do more.  When challenged, I always rise to the occasion and when I arrived at the first meeting at the Jewish Synagogue, I realized this would strictly be about volunteering and not match-making.  There was not one single soul near my age.  Most were a bit older than me and more than a few were significantly older.  They were old, y’all.  Old like The Pope. 

However, this works for me on a number of levels.  I am a frog’s hair shy of 46 and am no longer anywhere near the youngest person at work, as I used to be.  I don’t think I look my age but it doesn’t mean I don’t often feel my age.  Being the youngest person in any location makes me feel younger, at least on the inside.  Why do you think I like Palm Springs so much?  I mean, other than they’re the only people who dress like me that aren’t actually playing golf or being rude to staff at a country club.

                I have no problem dating someone ten or even 12 years older, but I have my limits.  I am not looking to become someone’s home health aide.  I went into healthcare administration because it offers the opportunity to indirectly help those who are in ill health.  I don’t like me when I’m sick, much less someone else.  Realizing I was not to find my intended betrothed at this particular function, I spied someone very near my age, a lovely Japanese lady named Moss and moseyed on over to say “Howdy”.  Well, I said howdy metaphorically.  I don’t actually talk like that, at least not anymore. 

We immediately bonded and have become fast friends, spending lots of quality time enjoying the numerous things we have in common.  I even taught her how to make shrimp and grits, using a recipe she gave me.   She is the Asian Grace to my Southern Will.  What?  I could be a Will, multiple similarities to Beverly Leslie notwithstanding.  As we are both in search of a proper gentleman companion, we have decided to help each other find the right person.  And, who knows, maybe we’ll spend so much time together we will realize we are right for each other since everyone else is straight running crazy these days. 

Stranger things have happened, right?  Offhand I can’t think of any…

3.5. Meet Mr. Right Through Online Dating, Part 2

              Having tired of the lack of success with Match.com, I remembered a friend had found success on OKCupid.  The same evening I was stood up by the boat trash, I signed up and immediately upon completing my profile had interest from one guy.  He met many of my criteria: seemed nice, was a Christian, lived within 30 minutes of me, had no shirtless photos and didn’t refer to himself as sexy or boi in his OKCupid account name.  For the record my account name is Brooks BrosPrep.

                We talked through the site and then through text for over a week and decided to meet for a lunch date which offers both specific end time as well as plenty of witnesses should he have murderous intentions.  What?  I saw that documentary about the Craigslist Killer.  On the day of the date, he called to say he was running late because he had been involved in a wreck in his mother’s car while taking her grocery shopping.  There were several ways to interpret this scenario but I decided to go with dutiful, but unlucky, son.  We rescheduled for later the same day for Starbucks, where he proceeded to spend most of the time talking about all the sugar daddies who wanted to buy him things.  He assured me he wasn’t looking for a sugar daddy but when I made a point to significantly downplay my assets, he stood me up for our following date even though he stated he was a Christian.  My offer of a date was, and I kid you not, an invitation to my Bible Study.  Just like the Spice Girls said, “If you wannabe my lover, you gotta get with my friends…and Jesus.”  Can I get a Zig-a-Zig-Amen, y’all?

                And speaking of Jesus, can I tell you the alarming number of very attractive Atheists in Long Beach and LA County?  I jokingly refer to California as “Land of the Heathen”, but I thought I was kidding.  However, I have come to find Sheldon’s Mama was right all along.  I have read profiles of at least twelve men who caught my attention only to find they are Atheist.  I’m not even counting the multitude of Agnostics out there.  And if you are looking for a non-smoker, they are just as hard to come by as Christians, or at least authentic Christians.  You’ll pardon me if I fail to find authenticity in your faith when you are posed shirtless in your photo and your account name is GitUSum2Nite.  Methinks you have something on your mind besides sharing your journey toward redemption.

                The next 65 people I “winked at” (which is something you do on this site), emailed or otherwise showed interest in had no reciprocal interest in yours truly for reasons known only to them.  There were two gentlemen, and I use that term loosely, who found my profile, communicated, set dates and then stood me up.  I don’t know why.  Honestly I wasn’t invested enough to ask.  I just finished my appetizer and left the restaurant.

I decided to simply stop looking at people’s profiles and let those interested contact me when I received this message last week.  I’ll give it to you in its entirety.

 

Random Dude:  “Hi.  I’m looking for someone who can treat me like a baby.”

Me: “I don’t understand that sentence.”

RD:  “I wanna be a baby.”

Me:  “I am not interested in whatever this is.  Thank you.”

 

Yes, dear readers, from amongst these people I must find my future husband.  I know Meaghan Trainor wrote a song about her future husband and while I don’t remember what it said, I think maybe I’ll ask her out on a date.  Men are starting to get on my nerves and I do like a sassy girl; unfortunately, my favorite Sassy Girl Emily is, alas, happily married in the Magnolia State.  I can’t do the splits like that big dude in Ms. Trainor’s video but I can rock a sweater tied around my shoulders, like an Old School Prep.  That’s got to count for something, right?

 

On to Suggestion #4:  Meet Mr. Right through Volunteering.