Sunday, August 31, 2008

Senior Guapo

This little feller reappeared again. I finally spoke with him yesterday.

He has called and texted me over 30 times. Maybe more.

He is a professional soccer player for the California Victory Soccer team. But... people he is 26 years old.


Did I metion that he is Twennnnnnty Sixxxxxxxxx?

And relentless. He says, with an accent, come on Charmeeen, are jew sayin dat jew have too miny friends? We can be jes friends if jew like, have dinner and see movies together. Jew know, age eez jes a number.

ha ha. He just called again. I didn't pick up. I think I look a bit older then I do on the picture I have posted on (It's the same on one this blog). Maybe I should update it, show off the bod...keep the attention off my face.

I also have a sneaking suspician that evil surfer dude has found my blog. It's just a nagging feeling...

Evil surfer dude, if you have found this blog, show yourself immediately.

Friday, August 29, 2008

Finally....FINALLY he's gone

I know I have tried your patience with the whole Evil Surfer Dude saga. I dumped him.

As expected, he appeared on my doorstep the next day. I hid as he tried to jiggle the doors open. On his third attempt, he caught me. I had to face him.

Just to REALLY creep you out. I mean REALLY REALLY creep you out. Here is my pretend final letter to him. I won't send it. It's just a way of working out my feelings, then letting them go.

Dear Evil Surfer Dude, I would like to provide you with a list of your character flaws. If you ever secure the chance to be with a real woman again you will have this little road map clarifying the areas you need to work on. You’re welcome. I know, I’m too kind.

You have knack for giving nothing. You did it all summer. You never took me out for a nice dinner. Not once. Fyi: Fast food restaurants don't count. Our last date at Pick up Stix was the final straw. Ok, call it the final stick. I spent more money on food (cooking) then you did. According to you, you are so “wealthy” that you plan to retire at 55. You have 256K in the bank… remember?

Your one and only gift to me was a $1.99 pair of cheap flip-flops.

You don’t have a cell phone or Microsoft Office. Rather then buy the software you asked to pirate mine. And you claim to have worked in the computer industry? Huh?

The sheer magnitude of your lies was astounding. The one that freaked me out the most was the one you told Patricia (the woman chased on line after just a month with me). I found her and we communicated and foiled your plot to meet (she stood you up).All the while declaring your love for me, demanding a commitment. You advised her in excruciating detail what you were working on in the lab down to each instrument you were using, each scientific protocol (like you did with me). But you were unemployed!

Telling me you were admitted into medical school was interesting. When I asked you how you did on your MedCATS…you had no option but to fold. In retrospect, I’m sure you lied about everything…professional surfer, minor league baseball for Mariners. According to you, you played almost every professional sport. You don’t exist in any record of any sport. In addition, the fact that you would not show me your resume (you’re a scientist, right?) was suspicious. You must be a lab tech.

Your phone never rang, not once when I was at your house. You have no friends. My uncle, a psychiatrist, advises that an important quality to look for in a man is evidence that he has a couple of good male friends. If a man has no male friends, he is psychologically and socially suspect. I have no doubt that your father damaged you by beating you and your mother and then leaving. He sounded like a disgusting man, never paying child support while you and your mother struggled. Or was that a lie ?

You became jealous when I was on my cell phone. I stopped answering it when I was with you -just to avoid your attitude. I always wondered if you would become abusive (like your father). In a perverse way, I almost hoped you would so that you would see how a normal woman would react. You would have been in jail so fast you head would have spun. Unless you’d killed me. Ok…um, scratch that fantasy.

One of my favorite quotes was the whole “I love you” but I’m not in love with you crap. I would expect that from a teenager, perhaps. It was only interesting in light of your constant, incessent pleading, “Do you love me?”, as if you were a child.

Today as we ran my errands and you were trying to repair our realtionship, you walked behind me like a mute child. Of course men don’t like you. Men don’t like weakness, neither do I. Certainly you would never offer to pay for anything. Some men buy little things for their woman on occasion, like a $10.00 lip-gloss perhaps. A gesture.

Your selfishness was epic. Only once did you agree to do one (1) thing I wanted. I forced you after the Patricia situation. That was to take me to Bandara restaurant so that I could actually make contact with a vegetable. You acted like a petulant child, trying so hard to dislike the place. You made sure I knew it too, so that I would be uncomfortable...ruin it for me. What a jerk. You could have been polite like I was at Pick of Stix. Which gave me heartburn, by the way.

You constantly told me what you wanted, what you liked, what I should cook for you. As if you were placing an order. This is not Burger King. You can't have it your way". You obsessively told me about your mother, endlessly recounting tales from boyhood as if it was your most immediate past. You’re 53. We never talked about me.

The “my only other two (2) girlfriends died” comment was as compelling as it was frightening. I told my sister. When I would fail to answer my phone she was on the verge of calling 911. Further, you have no family. None. Weird. Did you kill them too?

You insulted me every time you did not get your way. The irony is that I have the mother-load of insults for you. But I will keep it to myself because there is nothing you can do about it. (Blog readers, the insult is of an anatomical nature…if you get my drift.)

That's it. You may now go about your day.

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

You're Warnings!

I might ignore a warning once, maybe twice...

But not 15 warnings.

EVERYONE (it's official) is creeped out by Surfer Dude.

I invision images of Scott Peterson dragging his murdered pregnant bride and tossing her into a lake afterwhich he gazed deadpan straight into the cameras declaring, "I did not murder my wife". The friends and family never liked him. The thing is, a woman can be wrong about a man.

Friends and family are rarely wrong.

It isn't due to any particular psychic ability, rather, they KNOW you. The clues lie in how you describe the person and if you are beginning to act out-of-character.

I was pretty much willing to ignore every sign. I mean really, how many more signs could there be? Still....I was ignoring them because of my current seemingly desperate situation. And I would have continued to do so if not for YOUR comments.

I listen to you. I consider you my friends.

I stopped answering my cell when I was with Surfer Dude. He would get a bit jealous and it just wasn't worth it. But....that's not normal.

The clincher came yesterday when my baby sister texted me; "Call me or I'm calling 911". (She thinks he is a murderer since his last two girlfriends died. Even one of my nephews left a message on my phone asking me to call him. (My sister didn't put him up to it.)

It's like the Gods are saying, WAKE UP CHARMAINE!!!!

I miss having swanky dinners with fantastic wine at tables glittering with candles. I miss answering the phone. I miss talking about ME occasionally.

I'm an independent person. Just a few weeks of not working sent me reeling into a feeling of such desperation and fear I was willing to sell myself....the devil.

Sunday, August 24, 2008

I'm pooped

Yes, I spent another weekend with evil surfer dude.

One has to be careful. Doing the same thing over again becomes a habit. Before you know're in too deep.

My problem is...the benefits of the situation. We work out like crazy, I'm building tone in my legs and getting a tan (aging so not a good thing).

All the while, ignoring what I need to be focused on...getting a job.

It doesn't take a rocket scientist to realize why I have been avoiding the inevitable. Thoughts of being taken away from all this, getting more time...but it's a slippery slope and we are at mission critical.

I have to stop this. Eject. Before it's too late and my life becomes destroyed.

Friday, August 22, 2008

Surfer Dude - Cheap Ass Sucker

I hung out with Surfer Dude (evil version) yesterday. We hiked 6 miles over El Moro Canyon and then went to Crystal Cove Beach (he body surfed among a bunch of of kids which, embarassed me...I don't know why. ) I watched him watch the kids and it kinda freaked me out. I just looked at the women who looked better then me in bikinis. Then I jogged on the beach. Then picnic lunch.

He brought over 2 bottles of water and 2 peanut butter and jelly sandwhiches. I made brownies and egg salad sandwhiches. I also cooked us breakfast.

Now, I know this may be weird, but it pisses me off that the man brings over exactely 2 tiny bottles of water and 1 diet coke. Why couldn't he just bring over a six pack of coke? Why just bring exactely what he was planning to consume?

I can't stand cheap. I can't stand it. Especially when I am broke. Even broke, I'm not cheap.

The day was fine, but I had dollar signs in the back of my head. We hiked hard for about 6 miles. That is the ONLY thing I like about this man. He pushes me.

Later in the day he was professing his fake love again and proceeded to advise what a good catch he is, financially. I guess he has over 200K in the bank, not to mention 401K and stocks.

All I could think about is that with 200K in the bank the best he could do was to bring over 2 tiny bottles of water? When he left I added up how much the day had cost me. Not much I know but still:

Buy Brownie Mix
Buy Eggs (breakfast and sandwiches)
Buy nuts
Buy oil
Buy bread for egg salad sandwiches
Buy OJ for breakfast
Buy Water
Buy Popsicles
Bought dinner for myself (he ate my un-eaten 7 hour old Pb&J for dinner) Jesus.

Two bottled waters

Monday, August 18, 2008

Surf Pup...seriously, I have a problem.

It's ridiculous...(referring the surfer phenomenon). Apparently, it's all I date.

But I mean.... what am I supposed to do?

Generally speaking, men who post pics of themselves shirtless lose my respect. Especially the enormous pot bellied look at me without my shirt in front of my RV picture. I've decided to suspend judgement. I simply must learn to be less judgemental. Maybe I'll even start going to church?

Let's pray, shall we? Dear God, please let me touch this mans chest. I just want to touch it. God, remember I how I was a nun for the past 7 years? Did I win any points? I know I screwed up with Evil Surfer Dude, but he's the devil. The devil is smart. I'm truly sorry for that. I mean, I'm REALLY sorry. Do you have an exchange policy?

This Surf Pup has tried for 2 months to reach me. He called this weekend and I missed the call AGAIN. (I was at evil Surfer Dude's house). Bad BAD Charmaine.

He sounds FUNNY, witty clever and intelligent. (This frankly scares me.) He accused me of being a "plant" on the dating website. "The kind of woman who is beautiful and funny, could not possibly be real", he said.

But gorgeous men never like me. I turn into a zombie. Maybe he'll bave bad teeth...that will keep my mind off...the chest.

Ever since my date with the OTHER cute blond surfer I've been wondering if I've lost my appeal. He was the one that said at the end of our date; "Wanna make history together?"... then denied it". Update: I emailed him just to verify the entire conversation. His response was, "I didn't know you smoked pot?" (His way of saying that I was "high") Ladies and Gentleman...I don't do drugs.

I'm more comfortable with average to below average looking men. They would never accuse me of being "high".

But I owe to my readers to return Surf Pup's call. I must meet this chest, I mean surfer, in person.

QUESTION FOR THE MARATHON RUNNERS: That Romanian woman who won? What was she smelling during her run? Smelling salts?

Friday, August 15, 2008


It has recently come to my attention (because p.o.m. rarely resists the opportunity to remind me) that I have certain "patterns" with men.

She is referring to my break up to make up "pattern".

Another pattern that "My Three Sons" recounts is the "you never date men you are attracted to Charmaine because you're afraid of getting hurt".

I'd like to confess to a bigger pattern. The one I notice.

I only dive into relationships during times of unemployment. It's hilarious.

My last one (I call him Vern) I met during my last time of unemployment 8 years ago.

After Vern... followed gainful employment. I dated but never made it past date #2. It only takes me two dates to figure out what's wrong with you, if you're a man.

I'm unemployed again. So...Surfer Dude is back. There is plenty wrong with him. But I'll ignore it for now. Say, in case I need a little help. Does this make me a whore or does my heart only open when I'm vulnerable?

Who knows?

I remember when my father died. My mother never dated again. Maybe she didn't think she needed to. My Aunt did the same thing after her husband died. The minute they felt they didn't NEED a man, the men were history.

Sometimes dating a man feels like a second job. I can only deal with one job at a time.

Monday, August 11, 2008


It's important to have perspective.

In light of recent events I thought it would be fun to show you some of the young blood chasing me. This little feller is 26. He's a professional soccer player.

I mean, really?
There is more where this came from. Before you feel too sorry for me after having Surfer Dude dash my dreams.

Look at this. Who in God's name took that photo? Why in God's name did someone take this photo? Is that bracelet?

Why is this child asking me out...outside of the obvious?

Men, older men, always say, "Charmaine, you know WHY young men ask you out, right? They just want one thing?"

To which I respond, "And that differentiates them from you, how exactley?"

Pork Chops - Latin Style

I am always looking for recipes that please men. This means they are simple, easy, fattening or artery clogging.

For some reason, men seem to love Pork Chops. I have never been a fan but have tried a few things lately. The first recipe, from Spicey Latina's blog, is something she made for her man and he loved them. After reading the recipe, I was more then suspicious.

But I made them, they were great. I couldn't believe anyone would boil a pork chop. The cider vinegar must have massively tenderized them. Simple, tender, garlicky and crispy. With mashed potatoes and steamed broccoli rabe, it's like grandma just came to town.

Spicy Latinas Man Pleasin' Pork Chops

2- 4 Chuletas (pork chops) on the bone
Black Pepper
Oregano Flakes
2 gloves of garlic
3 table spoons of apple cider vinegar
Olive Oil

Press the 2 gloves of garlic, add the 3 table spoons of vinegar to garlic and rub onto pork chops. Season chops with salt, pepper and oregano flakes drizzle with olive oil and let marinate over night.

Next day - Put pork chops in a skillet and add water, enough water to cover pork chop (water should not be more than 1/2 an inch over chop) cover and cook on high for at least 45 min, maybe more. You want to boil until all the water has evaporated, once the water is gone, add a little oil to the pan and brown the chops. You want them to be browned and a little crispy.

Instant Replay

At 10:00 AM Surfer Dude called to announce that he was on his way over.

I ran, I mean scrambled, found my sneakers and put them on. I was ready to LEAP out of the front door then jump into my car to get away.

As I tied the laces on sneaker number two I heard the beep of a car alarm.

It was just outside my door. I knew it was him.

After an entire week I was no longer in touch with my anger. Oh, and the reason he came over at all is because this morning I'd condescended to respond to his IM.

I knew I shouldn't have done that. I just never thought he would come over. It's an hour drive.

So we spend the day together, worked out in CDM, had lunch and dinner. He told me his excuses. The fact that he thinks we might both feel love for each other. More marriage insinuations. I mean, really. But ladies and gentlemen, I'm not a moron. Despite the fact that I play one here.

I just sent him an email advising that we can continue to see each other under the condition that we remain non-exclusive. Given his attempt to stray (and my amazing buzz kill on that one) this should be exactely what he wants, but isn't.

He want's me off the market. No way.

I missed my date with nice Jewish Media Relations guy who is writing the screenplay on internet dating. I'm working on a re-schedule.

Saturday, August 9, 2008

Loose Ends

I just wanted to tie up the loose ends. Evil Surfer Dude sent flowers and a LONG email where he professed to have been planning to ask me to marry him.

Can you believe that?

Kewl Blond Surfer Dude professed NOT to have said to me, "Do you want to make history?" at the end of our date.

He said I was just hearing what I wanted to hear. Huh? Why would I want to hear something that makes no sense?

Have all the men gone mad?

Someone, please alert the media. Manmadness, it's an epidemic.

At least in Southern California.

I'm moving to Vermont.

But not until after my date with the Jewish Media Relations guy tomorrow night. He's writing a screen play on middle aged internet dating. He just met the mother load, if he's looking for material that is.

Thursday, August 7, 2008

Surfer Dude - Improved Version

We met at Javiers at Crystal Cove, CA. The man was FINE.

I was late. He had already ordered my favorite wine, Cakebread Chardonnay.

He was dressed superbly. I suspected, I had a rich man on my hands.

Sadly, I had decided to wear my "look-at-me-I'm-a-prostitute" 4 inch heels. I was almost as tall as him.

The conversation did not flow perfectly. It was very loud for a Wed. night. He had a VERY dry sense of humor. This means when he's being funny, he does so with a straight face. Since I don't know him, I couldn't tell when he was joking. (He said something about being poor white trash).

Given the clothing, blue oxford shirt, reddish tie roughishly askew and tan very thin pants he was not poor white trash. But hell, I didn't know. He made another joke about being in prison. I didn't laugh cuz I was trying to be understanding.

I thought I looked good. So good that I actually stopped on the way to get my passport picture taken.

I noticed, looking at my picture, that the events of the past few months have aged me. Maybe it's the jogging. But I have definite jowels and discernable wrinkles.

Still I looked good enough to garner some stares from a few young men at the table behind my date. (Or maybe they were just looking at my jowels.) My date never told me I looked nice.

We had two glasses of wine. This set him back 100 bucks. He laughed at my jokes. Told me I was a very funny woman. I could barely hear him. It was frustrating.

He made a comment about how I was sitting so far away. But he did not encourage me to sit closer.

After our two drinks we left. As I waited for the valet he turned to me and said, "Do you want to make history?" I guess I made a strange face. He said, "why did you just get scared now?"

What did that mean? Was he going to ask me to dinner and my bolting-like behavior sent the wrong message? Was he asking if I wanted to become the first female president?

He walked me to my car. I went to hug him and he said, "Oh no, you're not going to hug me". I did. Then drove off.

That night he sent me an email that said, "You lived up to your namesake". My profile name on plentyoffish is Charming Mary.

But the dude did not ask me out again.

Oh but...the evil Surfer Dude just sent me flowers.

Monday, August 4, 2008

The FINAL end to Surfer Dude.

Listen to your "gut". That's what your mama told you. I'm not your mama, but listen up.

In retrospect, it's easy to see the warning signs. I had played by my younger gal rules, waiting at least 2 months before, ya know. That was supposed to shake out the "players". I thought this made me smart. I was wrong. Older players can wait longer.

I spent the night last Friday. I was at his house last Saturday where he professed his love, demanded that we make our relationship "exclusive" and asked again if I wanted to move in. But something was different. He kept looking at his watch. We started having one of our playful arguments where he tells me how great he is and how attractive. I would say, you're not as attractive as me. Etc. But seriously, the man is not attractive so his enormous pride is kinda funny. (And no I don't think I'm that attractive). At one point he mentioned that he could attract extremely beautiful women. I said, "no you can't".

He commented, "Oh yea? I have a very beautiful woman chasing me right now. (We've both stayed on with the understanding that we are basically just flirting. I do it so I did not begrudge him this).

In an act of massive hubris, he went to the computer and showed me her picture. I see that she is indeed gorgeous and that they have exchanged several emails. But there's something I didn't tell you. I memorized her user name.

He said she was chasing him. My mind was in a whirl. How could this be? If so, I should be greatful to have this guy at all.

When I got home from his house, I saw that he went right back on line the minute I left.

I found her, then I e-mailed her. I did. Oh yes I did. I DID. (Afterwards, I felt silly. What if she really was chasing him, I would look like a silly jealous fool.) I told her that I was in his living room 10 minutes before he emailed her on Saturday. I left my cell phone number if she wanted any further details.

She called me. This is her. She's 51, can you believe it? I sence some plastic surgery.

Surfer Dude was pursuing her for weeks. She said "no" to him several times but, as with me, he was SO persistant she agreed to meet with him. They had a date set for Tuesday.

She told me that at 3:30 PM ( 30 minutes after I left on Saturday), he called her and apologized for not responding sooner to her email sooner because he had been in Mexico surfing that afternoon.

That means his living room is Mexico and hanging out with me is called, "surfing".

Don't get me wrong. None of this would have particularly bothered me if he hadn't insisted we be inclusive and advised me that if I ever dated another man, we were through.

After speaking to me she decided to stand him up. She told me some of the other things he had said to her. He was also lying about working, telling her the details of working at the lab (just like he did with me). He's currently unemployed. She thanked me for warning her. She thought that it might be fun for us both to meet him on the date. I that would be fun. But decided he wasn't worth the effort.

He keeps calling me. He doesn't know I know. He was stood up last night. He just left a message saying that he feels sick to his stomach.

I had planned to meet with him one last time and casually ask, "So how was your trip to Mexico last Saturday?"

But I'm just gonna leave it alone.

Date tonight with that cute blond REAL surfer from Laguna tonight.

Woops. There goes my phone again. It's surfer dude. I'm gonna send him an email and say that I've moved on.

Sunday, August 3, 2008

Surfer Dude - Revealed

This is/was surfer dude.
I can already hear you. Not what you expected. He looks more like the nerdy scientist that he is.

So yep, I went to see him yesterday. We got back together, so to speak. But you know how this works, right?

It doesn't work. He declared his love for me, asked for us to be exclusive and, not 10 minutes after I left his house he was back on line trolling for babes. I'm internet savvy. :-)a

It's not that I minded, I didn't want to be exclusive. I just hated the lie, like most women. It so insulting. So I kicked him the curb last night.
I learned a lesson. It was about time. Oh and...I deserve this, because of my massive hubris. Truth be told, he's been calling me ever since. Yawn. I'm on to bigger and better things.

So this is my date for next week. He's another surfer dude who actually looks the part. He also has a successful persona. But frankly, I don't care what the man does for a living.
My new strategy is to only date men I find attractive. I used to date men who were not attractive cuz...I guess I thought they would appreciate me more.
It's simply not true.