So I was out on Facebook getting my social network on when I came across an article a friend of mine posted from Yahoo. It was about a woman in Ohio who supposedly discovered her husband had married another woman in Florida and they had posted all the pictures up on the ol’ FB for the world to see. Obviously feeling a little disappointed, she took her side of the story to the national news media (because isn’t that what we all want to do when we’re hurt and angry?). Of course Hubs denied that they were ever technically and legally married, and said she knew about the other woman and the marriage. To which I reply, “DUDE. Who gives a shit if you’re ‘technically’ married or not, you went through with a huge to do with pictures and video to prove that you did in fact marry ceremonially at least, proceeded to have 2 kids, and then went and got yourself another ‘wife.’ The technicality of your first marriage should be the least of your karmic worries!” And that got me thinking even more about some recent events (over and above what happened to inspire my last post) that have transpired in my own life that have left me at a serious loss for not only words, but my lunch as well. These things are truly vomit inducing and make one doubt the future of the human race.
First off, I incurred a new dating prospect. A guy I had met briefly a while back who got in touch with me (again with that marvel of modern technology, Facebook) and asked for my number. Great! I thought. Perhaps this will be a fun adventure. Sure enough, this fella called me and we talked on the phone. We discussed fun stuff like work and going out. We joked around about drinking beer and sitting in a kiddie pool on my deck. He mentioned taking me on a date. Even better! I thought. I went to sleep feeling pretty positive. I woke up to a text request from ol’ boy asking for a naked picture to get his day started off right. Yes…you need to go back and read that again. The messages just got worse from there. One even mentioned sending me a picture of a very sensitive area of my anatomy in exchange for the servicing of said area. Now, gentle reader, I will tell you I am a very open person who is not easily offended and is usually the one doing the offending if the truth be told. But I find it not only tacky and tasteless but downright rude to say such things to a gal that you don’t even know and haven’t even been out with yet—in other words, ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? Obviously my sense of humor was sorely misconstrued the night before, or this guy is one Penthouse Letter short of a compendium. So what did I do? I advised this young man to calm down and see if he even liked me first before professing his undying devotion to Mrs. Peabody and the Lotus of Love. Needless to say I won’t be answering his calls anymore.
Second on my list was an email exchange with a co-worker. Let me preface by saying that in all honesty, I didn’t think this young man really liked me that much. He hardly talks to me at work functions, and though we have joked around on occasion, he really does not seem to want to be part of my extended network. I saw him the day before the email exchange at a work training thing, and we shared a joke and that was it. No other conversation. I had congratulated him a while ago on his recent fatherhood, but before the work training, I had not spoken to him in weeks upon weeks. This was fine by me, as he lives in another state, is married, and did I mention JUST HAD A BABY. So when I get an email that starts out innocuous enough—it was about the joke we had been chuckling over—I of course replied and started what I thought was a discussion about an upcoming work trip. Things quickly turned to a not so platonic tack and requests for pointers and personal instruction on “indoor sports” became the topic. Again, I am not the one to talk to about appropriate conversations most of the time, but friends, this was uncalled for. I tried to steer the conversation back to safer ground and fortunately signed off for the day before I ended up in a loss of consortium lawsuit.
Last but not least was another email exchange with an old friend. This fella was what we would call in common parlance a “hook up buddy” who in recent months had acquired himself a lady friend, and by lady friend I mean a serious enough one to have changed the—yep, you guessed it—Facebook status to “in a relationship with.” I simply dropped him a note just to say hello since we don’t usually talk when either one of us is parked up with someone else. I promptly receive an email asking how I am as well, and could I give him my phone number again since he’s lost his contacts recently? I obliged, as it seemed to be a simple enough request, and he then proceeded to promise to call in the wee hours very soon to procure some sweet sweet lovin’. I was a bit taken aback, as I thought he was still hugged up with his bird, what with it being on his page and she also still having a picture of the two of them as her default profile picture. I asked what had happened to the “in a relationship” status, to which he replied “yeah, yeah, yeah.” I’m not sure if you know what that means, reader, but I do—that means he’s trying to get his creep on and hoping I’ll drop trou with no questions asked. Unfortunately for him, I was born at night, but not last night. He can call me all he wants, and text me, and whatever else, but these gams are glued shut until further notice.
In all of this, I felt two things—disgust and pity. Disgust at what these guys are (failing at) trying to do, and pity for the women involved with them. I understand that everyone has extenuating circumstances from time to time, but there’s no gray area here. It’s cut and dried and out there on Facebook for Pete’s sake. I was appalled at what lengths these men would go to just for the possibility of a temporary fix and how ridiculously stupid they were acting to get it. I know I’m a pretty lady with a lot to offer, but I don’t offer it to just everyone, and it offended me that these men would even attempt to obtain what I’ve got without regard for anyone else. Part of me says I ought to know by now, but part of me still wants to believe that good guys exist. So please, for the sake of everyone you know, be a decent person. And for the sake of me, don’t do that shit, because I will rake you over the coals in a public blog without mercy.