Felix and other things I am not into

Felix found his way to me, through unexpected channels. He's handsome. Well-mannered. Low-maintenance. Attentive. Sweet. Cleans up after himself. Everything a woman ever wanted in a male.
The only thing is: He's a cat. He's black and white. About 8 years old. He's living on my screened-in porch.
Problem is: I don't want a cat. Much like I don't want many things in my life right now. I am half-heartedly buying a house because I think it would be a good investment. I am half-heartedly on Match.com because honestly, I was having too much sadness and I thought a few good dates would cure that.
Instead, I got involved. I am feeling Felix work his way into my heart, much like Blue Eyes has.
Blue Eyes is fun, goofy, tall, young, curious, deceptively seductive.
And yet, he's not going to be my boyfriend. And he reminds me of my ex in that he's not being romantic with me. He's not sweeping me off my feet. He's, quite frankly, "just not that into me."
I am trying to figure out what I do to attract these men who are not very generous or romantic with me. I am not needy. I am very approving. I am fun. Maybe I need to be more generous with myself? Maybe I need to insist on the highest standard, which is: What makes me happy? And dispense with all the rest?
Maybe.
Felix: That may mean the end to you and me, baby. I just don't want your cat hair all over my furniture and rugs and in every nook and cranny of this old apartment. Call me strange, but I just don't want it. Please understand.
Blue Eyes, I probably like you more than you like me at this point, which could spell adios for us.
So, here's to only doing things that I want to do. And doing them with exquisite focus and power.
Meow.

Everything in moderation

Nuf said....

Booty texts

So, I was really off my game for several months through winter. Getting on Match.com was a sort of proactive, get-off-my-duff move meant to jump start my mojo.

What I find hysterical is that after not hearing from them for months, I got two booty texts this week from 2 of my "paramours" last summer. I mean literally months had gone by without hearing from these cats, and suddenly I'm on their mind?

There are no coincidences, they say, so maybe just moving my energy towards openness again is what brought these sexy guys out of the woodwork.

By the way: Both have great personalities, are smart, are hot and are amazing kissers... Now that's attraction right there. Oh dating gods, please rain down more men like that on me.... Pretty please? With sugar on top? I promise I'll be good...

Why motorcross?

I have been noticing that on Match.com, a lot of men put down "motorcross" as their sport.
Really? Are they off-road motorcycle racers? I find that hard to believe... But maybe it's a hidden element to society that I had been missing. I actually think it's the mostly non-athletic guys saying that, so maybe they think it's hot to put that as a sport, and in so doing, one will miss their beer belly... Hmmmmmmmm....

I digress. Tennis legs was verrrrrry nice, but.... he didn't have sexy tennis legs. Attraction is crucial for Cazadora. She wants some hotness. I want good things for Tennis Legs. He is a fundamentally good person. He will do great things with his life. But chemistry with Cazadora? Flat as an old tennis ball.

My ex was hot... I mean HOT. Curious.

I want to think I like a person for their brains. Sense of humor. Goodness. Spirituality. Not abs and pecs and biceps. Maybe I'm deluding myself. Maybe I can make this stand: Hotness without brains is not my bag, but hotness with brains? Bingo.

Match this

Cazadora had a bad winter. It was sad, cold and honestly, miserable...

But spring and its sultry nights are here. The jasmine is blooming already and making the whole city feel alive and sexy. Sex is in the air. Atlanta's pollen count goes through the roof, and so do the pheromone readings.

It was time to move from "poor me" to "poor them." I have posted my profile on Match.com, and the interest is overwhelming... Don't hurt'em, Cazadora.

I have gotten winks from dozens of men, and they are so different... 27-year-old Kyle -- loves summer and anything he can wear his bathing suit to -- to 67-year-old Duke -- he thought we would just have an "outrageous" time.

The 40 year age difference is overwhelming... and intriguing. Why are the young ones interested in me? My favorite two right now are both 29... I wish I could understand what is is going on in their heads. Truly fascinating that a 38 year old woman is on their wish list.

It's clear why the older ones get interested in me. But really.... 67??? Do I look like I am the Hugh Hefner type?

I tested the waters tonight, and went on my first Match date with"NeNe." I made him go salsa dancing with me... He was such a good sport. He had rhythm and tried all the dances... very nice guy. I hated his cologne though (he applied it with a pressure washer) and I couldn't see us having much to talk about. And there was no chemistry for me. I was thinking of him as my starter date... Please don't tell him I said that. But you know, it was a great start. It was light and easy and just good clean sultry fun.

But there are two others that have captured my eye. And they couldn't have different approaches. Both are 29 and in auditing or accounting. One we'll call Blue Eyes. He has been sending the most seductive emails and sounds like someone that I could really connect with... But, he's quite forward and may just be looking for the hook up. (I am not sure that's such a bad thing, but still, a gal needs to be careful.)

Then there's Tennis Legs. He is very professional and on the rise and he and I have had a lot of fun in the chat room with him. He kept things simple and fun and clean and upbeat, but also clever and and he asked a lot of great questions. I can't wait to meet them both.

I think I could get the hang of this Match thing. Light please!

File under: "idiot"

So... where to even begin on this post... how about just blurting it out?

My ex-husband walked by my place on Saturday afternoon toting his new girlfriend, who, by the way, was wearing a t-shirt I gave him. (Like, oh my God, right?) They were walking across the street from my place. I live at the entrance to a big park. I was sitting on my patio. They waved at me from afar... I tentatively waved back.

That was pretty bad. Dude has a choice of park entrances, but no, has to walk by mine. Clueless, right? (And just as a refresher course -- the ink dried on our divorce less than 2 months ago).

But (just like a bad infomercial) "Wait! There's more!" They initially kept walking, but within a few seconds they turned around, walked across the street, came over to my screened-in patio and he says," I thought I should introduce you guys."

[RECORD SCREECH!!!! NAILS ON CHALKBOARD!!! EAR-CURDLING SCREAM, OR ANY OTHER HIGH-PITCHED, ANNOYING NOISE YOU CAN THINK OF HERE...]

What???????? Really???? Hello, are you from planet Mars?

I couldn't believe what I was seeing -- or hearing -- or feeling. It was like a kick in the gut. A trip to an alternate universe. An ex-boyfriend at your wedding. An former step-mom spoiling Christmas dinner for your Dad. Basically, your run of the mill awkward scene from a Woody Allen movie. All in all, a WHAATTTTT???? is emanating from your shell-shocked soul.

(As background, I had known about this unmentionable one. She is 15 years younger than him, lives in another city and they visit each on weekends. Of course, they met through his job even before we talked getting divorced... Did he cheat? Not sure, don't think so. Kind of doesn't matter at this point. Was she the catalyst for our divorce? I'm pretty sure that most men don't have the nerve to leave their wives unless someone is waiting to catch them and why would he be any different? I knew she would be here for a weekend visit. But never in my wildest dreams did I think he would parade her down my street in a t-shirt I gave him and then up to my patio to INTRODUCE US???? I mean really... What kind of fuckin' idiot is this dude???)

What did we talk about, you ask? What else? The weather. Nice day, sunny today, supposed to rain tomorrow. Seriously. That's all we talked about it. The situation was so wrong.

What I really wanted to say was: Hope you're having fun fucking my ex-husband in the house that I decorated and is all me. Yeah. Enjoy it, you bitch, and him, because I know he can't cook and won't lift a finger to do anything for you. You can have him. Oh by the way, I bet he didn't tell you he has herpes, did he? To him, I wanted to say: I hope she gives you an STD, you mother-fucker. Yeah, something really nasty. Crabs? Syphilis? Whatever, just make it raunchy.

I know. It sounds angry. But I was. Am. I mean really? Why would you want to introduce us? What good can come of this? How dumb are you?

I couldn't even have the satisfaction of ripping him a new one right away because I had to wait for her to leave town. I couldn't ball him out and then have him turn to her for consolation. No. No way was I going to give them the satisfaction of hating me together...

Two days later, though, I let him have it.

Here's what I said when I finally called him. "Did you really think that was a good idea to introduce her to me???"

Him: "It was her idea." (Just like him to throw someone else under the bus instead of taking responsibility.)

Me: Going fuckin' ballistic. "Her idea? Didn't you think about how this would make me feel? Can't you think for yourself?"

His answer: "I did think it was a bad idea."

Me: "Then what the fuck, dude????"

The real answer is: Dude is a selfish motherfucker. One of his own friends has repeatedly asked me why I was with him so long when he is so selfish... Wow. With friends like that, who needs enemies.

In the end, after nearly going insane hearing all his lame reasons why he did think it was a bad idea but did it anyway, I told him to never, ever, ever never walk her down my street under any circumstances or introduce me to her ever again even all streets were blocked, there was a nuclear holocaust, and mine was the only entrance left to friggin' the promised land. I know I can't control a public street, but in this case, it's a reasonable request. I told him we are not friends, and I am not her friend and we are not going on double dates. He said, "I know we're not going on double dates, but I thought we were friends." I said, "No, you are my ex-husband, we are not 'friends.'"

And here's the rub: Every time he sees me, he gets tears in his eyes. And he had tears in his eyes on Saturday, even with this little sassy-assed hussy bitch by his side. What the fuck, dude? You are so weird.

I told him we are done. No more talking, emails, visits for any reason of any kind. Dude, we're done, done, done, done.

You can't be friends with your ex. At least, not when your ex is a clueless, selfish fuckin' idiot.

No nerve

After my liberating "unfriending" binge on Facebook, and while in theory I liked the idea of thinning the pack, I ended up getting less attention from men. How funny, no? Maybe the normal riff raff picked up on the fact that I was having none of their shenanigans. I would argue I also had the winter blahs and probably wasn't being exactly charming or sensual (I am a summer animal). Truth be told, I still feel the sting of the divorce, and I used winter seasonal affective disorder as an excuse to feel baaaaaaad. That was goooooood, I would say. Deal now or forever hold my peace.

When I did finally go out to meet the madding crowd, I met, of course, a 23-year-old. That's a dime and half less than me for those keeping score. He's younger than my last youngest conquest... I'm freaking myself out! Of course, however, he lives here illegally. My big joke is that I am "flytrap" for illegals. I ought to be an immigration agent, because I would catch them all. From any and every country, but of course mostly the ones that speak Spanish or Portuguese. (My trainer, bless his heart, says I catch the young ones because I'm short. One of my dear girlfriends says I catch the wrong ones because I'm too friendly. Short and friendly = illegal foreign young men. Anyone agree with this theory? I just want cool and eligible men who aren't married and schmucky and who hopefully speak English and read the newspaper. Is that so hard?)

Still, he was cute. We met on our birthdays at a night club -- we have the same birthday -- and we danced really well together and all night long. We had several "dates" so to speak after the first night we met (we actually just met up to go dancing).

I was, for a moment, considering having sex with him.

But when the lights came up and the truth came out, I lost my nerve. When I had my chance, I couldn't go through with it. I knew I didn't for one second consider him boyfriend material. I knew that morning conversation over coffee would be limited, and he had never read a newspaper. I wondered if he'd ever had his heart broken. I didn't want to be the first to do that.

He's sweet and sensitive in a very juvenile way. He lives at home with his mom and two high-school aged brothers. He sent me a lot of text messages (still does -- I wonder how long it will take for him to stop sending them... I haven't replied for days). He sent me a text chain mail letter proclaiming he loves me just the way I am. He said he wanted to get to know me better than he knows myself. Wow. See? Heart-breakingly sweet. But how could I potentially hurt that poor little guy?

So, I lost my nerve, plain and simple. Probably men are better at that type of thing. Act first, think of the consequences later. But I had too much heart for that, and not enough nerve. Maybe it's like catching a fish that's just too small and throwing it back, waiting for that bigger catch. One that meets the legal requirements. That must be it... Ahhh, the hunt goes on.