When Nothing Goes Right, I Go to Italy
I went to San Diego last weekend with friends. Just for fun.
What I found instead was a large dose of chaos, craziness and confusion. That happens sometimes, right? You go in search of one thing but find something unexpected that makes you go, “WTF? This wasn’t on the agenda.”
Would it surprise you to know that much of the chaos, craziness and confusion involved men from my past, present and future?
I didn’t think so.
Because I know that you know that when those three Cs are present, 9 times out of 10 it involves the opposite sex. Mars and Venus don’t always spin in sync. And last weekend, I felt like my whole galaxy was fucked up.
It didn’t help that my hotel room got robbed by some douche bag who stole everything from my favorite Victoria Secret bras to that day’s mall purchases. But for the sake of brevity, I won’t go into that and will leave him out of my story. As well as the cop who took seven hours to show up to take photos and dust for fingerprints. Neither of them deserve much air time.
For now, shall we play a game? I call it The Bachelor Party. Here are the players. They were all key components to my weekend of bat-shit craziness.
Bachelor #1: A tall, handsome, brooding man from my past. The Widower. Still in love with his late wife, but trying desperately to move on. He’s stuck, the poor guy. And I say that with all the sincerity and compassion in my soul. We tried to date a year ago, but his heart was (and is) still wrapped up in the woman he lost five years ago. I reconnected with him in a large group setting last weekend, and he was nothing like I remembered: he seemed socially shy, a bit awkward, slightly depressed and way too negative. And a little directionless. This was not the man in my memories, but probably more indicative of the man in reality. Sometimes the universe decides to show you when you dodged a bullet. Much appreciated, universe. The confirmation that he and I would never work provided closure. But damn. This was a reunion riddled with sadness.
Bachelor #2: A man I only know from Facebook, phone calls and texts. He shoots straight, and I like that. He’s a smart ass–always welcome. He makes me laugh–I like that too. And he’s a Midwest guy, which I have a soft spot for. We were planning on meeting at an event in San Diego last weekend. I was secretly hoping for a “boy meets girl, sparks fly, and kissing ensues” story. But plot twist: his sparks had begun flying with someone else, and he didn’t mention that until the day before said event.
Guess what? Disappointment + a few cocktails + a phone in my hand = 13-year-old sassy Sienna. I texted a few slightly inebriated things I shouldn’t have, he vomited anger and insults all over my phone, and what ensued was a ridiculous texting battle that both of us should be ashamed of. I eventually texted back long apologies complete with junior high-appropriate animated GIFs and “let’s be friends” sentiments, but he wouldn’t have it. I suspected he had a mean streak when he called another woman the C word on the phone once, but this confirmed it. So Bachelor #2 and I will likely never meet let alone be friends, and that just sucks because at our age, this kind of shit should never go down.
Bachelor #3: A handsome, charming professional who lives in San Diego. We’d chatted on and off for months, lost touch, then reconnected via Facebook when I was in town. We met for the first time Saturday night when we toured some of the hot spots in SD, flirted over a delicious Barbera, shared an intensely satisfying flourless chocolate dessert, and ended the evening with breathtaking views on the island of Coronado. I like this guy. Funny, quirky (in the best way possible), smart, sexy, straightforward and an amazing kisser. We had a great date. But he has a thing about the distance between us. NorCal to SoCal might as well be Iceland to Australia in his eyes, plus I detect a hint of commitment phobia (just my type, am I right?). So this was a lovely evening with a wonderful gentleman who I will probably never see again. Not my first time to this rodeo. But sometimes I do get a little tired of riding the same bull.
Stop it. That’s not a euphemism for sex. We got a little sexy, but no literal riding occurred.
Bachelor #4: A hot (and I mean hot) professional who lives in my ‘hood (as in, not long distance–you can applaud now) with one of the best online profiles I’ve seen in the past three years. We’ve been chatting for a few weeks, and he continued to reach out a bit while I was in San Diego dealing in some capacity with each of the other three bachelors above. Of all the men I’ve chatted with recently, he has the most potential in terms of location, life stage and compatibility. Of course, you never know about chemistry until you meet in person, but I’m hopeful.
Well . . . at least I was. After all my weekend shenanigans and dealings with Bachelors 1, 2 and 3, I got straight with Bachelor #4:
“Hey! I’m so glad we’ve connected, but how do you feel about actually meeting? Like, in person? I’m not picking up much interest from you that way, and I’m not really interested in just texting. So, your call. If you want to meet, awesome. If not, I wish you all the best.”
There you have it: Impatient Sienna. Blunt-And-To-The Point Sienna. I’m-Tired-Of-Nothing-Working-Quite-The-Way-I-Want-It-To Sienna.
It remains to be seen how Bachelor #4 will respond since I just texted that, but I’m not holding out hope for a positive response. Men don’t like ultimatums or being put on the spot. I know that. And under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t have been so pushy. Under my last weekend’s circumstances, I think I just want to shut this down, too. Mars isn’t looking very attractive right now, and I don’t have the gumption to make anything work at this point. All I want to do is pack my bags and go dance in a piazza in Italy.
Good thing I’m doing just that in two weeks. When nothing is going right, I go to Italy. For me, it’s the happiest place on earth, and I never feel more alive, empowered and absolutely thrilled about being an unattached single woman than when I’m traveling solo through the hills of Tuscany or the cobblestone streets of Rome.
Maybe one day Bachelor number-whatever will come along, the planets will align, Mars and Venus will spin in sync, and the unexpected will happen: it will work. Without all that craziness, chaos and confusion.
Until then, I’ll be content to be Just Sienna. Because you know what? That’s a pretty damn good thing to be.
It sure beats the hell out of playing bachelor games.
Categories: General Musings on Dating