Fetching Enough to be a Model, Not so Much to Get a Date in New Beginnings

Before I get into the meat of this entry, I got the promotion. My raise is either $2k or $5k a year, depending on how one looks at the situation. With the economy in its current condition, everyone, including myself, had to take a pay cut at my job. Mine was a $3k loss, but the new position pays $5k more than my newly lowered salary. Yay? At least I get the windowed office, which I’m not entirely crazy about. My current office is very closet-like. That is, it’s not on an outside wall, so I don’t have any access to daylight, but my desk faces the front door, which I much prefer. I suppose it doesn’t matter as it’s not like I’ll never have anything unrelated to work on my screen considering how busy I’ll be.

So why’d I take the job if I don’t want the new office and I’ll only get an extra $100 a month (after taxes) for all the extra work? I just want to feel competent. In all my previous positions, I hit a wall in my capabilities as soon as I got past the introductory level. I want to break that tradition. I want the confidence that comes with being the kind of person that gets stuff done. That feeling is worth far more to me than the money, title, office or perhaps even the opportunity for more money, a higher title, or a nicer office (that I actually want) down the line.

One of the first responsibilities I took in my new position was the Accounting brochure. The dean forwarded all the program chairs an email from an editor of a local magazine that was making our updated brochures. He said he needed a teacher and a student to pose for his photos. Of course, I was the teacher chosen, if only because I’m currently the only instructor in the Accounting program. However, it wasn’t my first rodeo. When I was about 21 and taking a physics class at my community college, I was in my physics lab when a photographer came in and needed a couple of students to model for a text book being made. Myself and a rather comely coed were chosen, so somewhere out there is physics lab book with photos of myself pretending to perform a lab experiment.

Next, I needed a student. Of course, the first student I thought of was Gaby, the lovely mid-twenty something Chilena who has a slight crush on me, is a flirt, or is excessively polite, I really can’t tell. I also figured she would be most accommodating to my request considering how much assistance I’ve given her over the semesters. I sent her an email describing our need for a student to model for some photos. I couldn’t pay her in money, but I could pay her in baked goods. One of the positives about college students is that they’re easily bribed with food. She said she’d be glad to help, but she had to sort out her schedule first, which ultimately prevented her from doing so.

Instead, I found another photogenic student, Ella, who was willing and ultimately able. We set a date for Wednesday at 11:00 AM, which the photographer forgot because he double booked. I still paid Ella the slutty cheesecake bars I made, which she quickly informed me were delicious. She and her roommates loved them, and she brought the other half of the pan to her job. Now she’s super popular with her roommates and her coworkers. When I offered to pay her more cheesecake bars if she could make the photographer’s new time, she was quick to say yes. sighs Why couldn’t it have been Gaby I got to bake for?

As for the second topic suggested by my title, I was blown off by a couple of romantic prospects online. I reached out to a match named Melissa. She was very pretty brunette, late 30s, divorced, just moved to Georgia, in between jobs and living with her retired parents. She didn’t have any kids or want kids, and we seemed to be compatible in terms of values. I initiated with an email, she responded, and we went back and forth for a few times until I asked her if she’d like to talk on the phone.

Her response was that she’d prefer to keep communication via computer because her parents would become intrusive if they heard her talking on the phone. I obliged, tried to keep the conversation going via DM, and never heard from her again.

Around the time I started talking to Melissa, I also got a like from a woman named Hailey. She didn’t provide her name, her handle was “Comet,” but I took a guess (as in Halley’s Comet). I actually did more than guess. With my guess of her first name and knowing where she went to college from her profile, I was able to ultimately find her name and social media page. Of course, when I responded to her email, I made sure to “guess” her name with the incorrect spelling.

“Hi, Halley. That is your name right? As in “Halley’s Comet…”

I figured I’d get bonus points for paying attention and deductive reasoning. Hailey was a few years older than me at 41. She had two boys, Andrew and Alex, but she had them young. They were 23 and 21, respectively and were finishing college. Hailey had her MBA, owned her own business in elder care (an industry in which my aunt an uncle also own a very successful business). We were both super compatible in terms of faith, beliefs, value, and money management (we’re both debt free!). She also lived 2 hours away in Greenville, SC, but I didn’t see any reason why things couldn’t eventually work out. After a few email exchanges, she offered me her number, and we set up a phone date that Saturday.

When I called her number promptly at 8:30 PM, no one picked up, so I sent her a text, then a DM through our dating app. I quickly received a text response saying, “This isn’t Hailey, she gave you the wrong number.”

I was part mortified, part excited because this would make one heck of a rant for my journal. Talk about a flake? Why would she blow me off like that? She gave me her number; I didn’t ask for it. Is it possible that it was one of her sons being territorial. I mean, how would this anonymous person know the nature behind my text was possibly romantic? Then I received a DM from her apologizing as she miskeyed her phone number in her original message. As it turned out, as she was having dinner with one of her sons, which ended sooner than expected, so she sent me a text telling me that she was available early, which I somehow missed.

We talked for a couple of hours, and the conversation was very pleasant. We talked about everything men and women normally talk about during a first meeting. Where we’re from, what we do, our families, and so forth. Her bedtime arrived, and we bid each other good night. We agreed to text each other the following week and set up another phone date, if that’s even a thing. I texted her Sunday afternoon thanking her for a nice evening and telling her I enjoyed myself, to which she responded with a similar sentiment. A couple of days later, I sent her another text to see how her week was going and to ultimately plan the next phone call. No response.

Is it me? Seriously, what did I do wrong? Melissa and I had been emailing for over a week before I asked for a phone call. Was that too soon? Too late? Was that line about her parents legitimate or just a blow off? If it was a blow off, why would she even have communicated with me for so long before disappearing.

What about Hailey? Was my missing her text a disqualifier? Was I not supposed to text her the day after? Was I supposed to text her every day? She said in her profile she was rather independent, so that you were the clingy type, things wouldn’t likely work out. I felt like I was making the right moves. It seems like a rule that if a date doesn’t go perfectly, not that a phone call counts as a date, the bloke is disqualified. Was it the distance? If it was, why was she willing to initiate contact to begin with?

Aren’t women supposed to become more lenient of their expectations as they move past their mid 30s? Not that I’m a charity case or a fixer upper. At least, I don’t think I am. I work out. I’m gainfully employed. I’m financially established. I don’t have any young kids, or kids in general, that need a mother figure. I don’t have a crazy ex to worry about. I don’t have any vices. I cook. I’m no man dime, but I think I look good enough to not nauseate anyone, but not so good that she’d ever have to worry about not being the pretty one in the relationship.
Maybe those are the problems. Someone once told me that being single is like being in the bathroom. It’s perfectly normal, but if you do it for too long, people think something is wrong with you. Then gross images pop into their heads, and every time they see you, they can’t tell if you smell a little funny. Perhaps singlehood is self perpetuating at this point.

I have my reservations about Gaby regarding whether things could work out, but if she does have some sort of interest in me, and she does eventually reach out to me after graduation, I might as well take her up on such an invitation. Most likely, she’ll meet with me once, then I’ll never hear from her again, so at least I won’t have to wonder.

In other news, I’m having knee surgery next week. Over a year ago, I was doing body weight squats, when I felt a “pop” behind my right knee, and the back of the joint began to swell. I figured it was a baker’s cyst. A few weeks later, I was doing some yard work when I pivoted clockwise on my right leg, and I felt another “pop” on the inside of my knee. After months of rest and recovery, and even more months of trying to rehabilitate the injury, my knee is still acting up. It’ll feel fine one day, painful the next. It hasn’t stopped me from living my life for the most part. I still go to jiu jitsu, I work out at the gym, I’m able to walk and climb stairs, but for about half the week, my right knee nags at me. I had an MRI, and apparently I have a meniscus tear and a root evulsion, the latter being the bigger problem. Apparently, the root evulsion can often times, but not always, be repaired. The surgeon won’t know until he’s actually doing the operation. The surgeon also said that about 70% of people who don’t get the root evulsion repaired eventually need a knee replacement within 10 years. Yikes! So, surgery is on Tuesday, and I’ll have to keep weight off that leg for about six weeks afterwards. I’m thinking of getting a hands free crutch, provided the doctor says it’s okay.

With my bandana face mask and an eventual peg leg, I’m really mixing the historic outlaw motif.

Last updated August 01, 2020