Textual relations with Mr. Chameleon ensued. I communicated my desire to see him that night. He reluctantly told me that he had a blind date set for the night. Shortly thereafter, he said she bailed. So, as circumstance would have it, we ended up meeting up for what was supposed to be a low key night because he was tired from a long night along with an apartment move that day. But the same girlfriend I had gone out with the night I met Mr. Ken Doll texted me that she was in the city and wanted to meet up. Mr. Chameleon and I rallied and went out to meet her with a specimen she was out with. What was supposed to be a quiet night turned into something quite different and quite enjoyable. The long time spent with Mr. Chameleon started bringing down the MoMo walls and exposing my vulnerabilities. I also learned during this time that Mr. Chameleon and Sales Sidekick had honed in on Mr. Rainman and me almost instantly when we were seated next to them. Their attention was drawn to the tense nature of the conversation between Mr. Rainman and me. I was seated next to Mr. Chameleon so he had to rely on Sales Sidekick’s visual observations for clues as to what I was about. Indeed, he texted Sales Sidekick asking him if I were wearing a wedding ring and telling him that they would try to get us to go out drinking with them by the end of the dinner. Scheming chameleons are the worst kind of chameleons. The conniving chameleon did succeed in his mission.
The next day was the long awaited day of reckoning with Mr. Ken Doll. I told Mr. Chameleon of my plans and that I wanted to see him after. He, understandably, refused to be a plan B. I had a tough choice – do I continue exploring the colors of the chameleon or do I go play ethnic Barbie with the Ken Doll. I like colors so I stuck with Mr. Chameleon. While he may have ultimately been happy with the decision at the time, it was clear he was irked that that the decision process existed at all. That struck me as odd considering he had less than 48 hours prior snatched me from Mr. Rainman and that he had a date of his own planned less than 24 hours before. I told Mr. Ken Doll that we’d have to reschedule to a later time. I wasn’t ready to crack all of the other eggs in my specimen basket because I didn’t know what the chameleon’s intentions were.
Once again, Mr. Chameleon and I were supposed to have a quiet night, but the same girlfriend was out and about in the city again – this time with a different specimen of her own. So basically, three nights in a row, Mr. Chameleon had partaken in three dates, none of which were his own. During his date intrusions, Mr. Chameleon and I got very close, at least from my perspective – so much so that my friend’s specimen du jour didn’t believe that we had just met. Mr. Chameleon used his pink color to penetrate the tough MoMo exterior. He seemed caring and attentive.
Eventually, I returned to the republic of New Jersey. In that time, Mr. Bullshit decided to break the silence and barrage me with acts of kindness in an effort to regain my affection. He delivered treats for me and my brood of huahuas. He also decided to show up at my place of residence unannounced. He chose an inopportune time to do so. I was in the middle enhancing my bathroom walls with pink paint. Since he was there, I recruited his assistance. We ended up spending the day together because despite the Home Depot guy’s suggestion that it would take 15-20 minutes to paint the bathroom, it took HOURS upon HOURS. Add that orange-apron-laden individual to the list of Pinocchios.
In the background, communication between Mr. Chameleon and me continued. We spent hours, several of them, on the phone even though we had talked endlessly the weekend we met. There seemed to be real relationship potential there, which is not something I say lightly. It was also apparent, though, that we had fundamental differences when it comes to communication. I am blunt and direct; he is more people-pleasing oriented in his choice of words. That is no minor difference and is reflective of different approaches to life overall. As a consequence, he viewed me as rude and I viewed him as disingenuous.
As if there weren’t enough factors tainting my dealings with all of these individuals, hormones took center stage and altered my mind, behavior, emotions, and perception. Hormones are evil, twisted, demonic motherfuckers. They are sons of bitches and bitches of sons. Whereas I am normally calculating and unfazed by external stimuli, under the influence of these biological demons I am exponentially more susceptible to typical human emotion, including the unwanted emission of a liquid substance from my eyes. I wear waterproof makeup, but it is still a huge inconvenience.
With that as a backdrop, I was supposed to see Mr. Chameleon on that Friday because I was once again to be in the city for a meeting. We had discussed this rendezvous earlier in the week and he left it off by saying he’d let me know his schedule. Despite our frequent communication, that conversation never happened. I was disappointed because he had been Forrest Gumping through my mind and I had really been looking forward to seeing him again.
In the meantime, Mr. Rainman and Mr. Ken Doll had texted me asking if I was going to be in the city that day. Mr. Rainman seems to be a glutton for punishment, yet there was no follow up from him until the next day when he said I seemed busy. Mr. Ken Doll asked if I’d join him for dinner. I held out hope that Mr. Chameleon would mention wanting to see me. No such luck. I opted with meeting Mr. Ken Doll for a quick dinner. He was as Ken-like as I remembered him. Conversation was not as fluid as it was with Mr. Chameleon because Mr. Ken Doll is more reserved and quiet than Mr. Chameleon. Thus, I ended up doing most of the talking. My already strong desire to see Mr. Chameleon was intensified by this experience.
I told Mr. Ken Doll I had to go and texted Mr. Chameleon asking why he didn’t want to see me. Mr. Chameleon responded with a typical chameleon rationalization bullshit nonsense about how he did want to see me but he thought I didn’t want to see him because I never brought it up again. Ultimately, I ended up seeing him. Critical error. His chameleon skin pealed back and his true color, orange (my least favorite color), surfaced. Someone should have alerted FEMA because it was a disaster. He knew I was out with someone else because of the lapse in time between my responses to his texts and also because I directly told him. That was the last straw for him. Query, though, if he knew I was out with someone else, why did he agree to see me at all. He emphasized his dislike for my blog and my treatment of men, along with calling me an asshole and saying that me stating that I simply “flip the script” on “specimens” was the most ridiculous thing any girl had ever said to him. I asked him to specify what his issue was with my conduct given that there were no clearly defined parameters or expectations between us. He stated that stacking dates on the same day is poor conduct. I asked him whether having a day in between would have been okay in his opinion. He barked back that I should just be able to “use my fucking brain” to figure it out and that people just don’t do that when they’re courting one another. He pompously lectured me about how I can’t just go around saying and doing whatever I want. Had I known his sales pitch the previous week included life coaching for four easy payments of $19.95, I would have quickly put the kibosh on that unsolicited advice. But wait, that’s not all.
At this point, I drew his attention to the fact that he had snatched me from another specimen on a date and that my life wasn’t on pause when I met him. I also stated the obvious, which was that him inviting a random female on a date with someone else to a Halloween party clearly signaled that he had invited other random potential specimens of his own. He admitted that he had to “lie” to and “uninvite” not one, but several others because of our interactions and that even with the “uninviteds,” there would still be several of his past conquests present. He rationalized that, unlike other guys, he was an upstanding citizen insofar as his own specimen slaying goes because he was honest with girls about his intentions. The hypocrisy runs deep with this one. So, this motherfucker who was actively and savagely assassinating my character and calling my moral compass into question had his own gaggle of girls in his basket of specimen eggs. We had a long, circular, unproductive conversation, which concluded with him disposing of me like a used tampon despite my unbecoming protests. Fine. I was acting out of a position of weakness rather than just reasonably acknowledging that I had let my emotions get the best of me once again and that it wasn’t a good fit because interspecies relations between chameleons and lionesses simply don’t work. I was on the defensive trying to rehabilitate my character and gain my power back. I lost that battle.
Finally, I returned home. During the city specimen experience, the New Jersey specimen Mr. Bullshit had been repeatedly texting and calling me. I answered his call on the way home only to get the third degree about where I was. I’m not Picasso in the art of lying. I tried, though, just to get him off my back and because, in my book, he doesn’t deserve loyalty or honesty after his behavior during the beginning of our relationship. And I’m not a fucking toy that he can throw in the toy chest whenever he doesn’t feel like playing only to retrieve me when he once again wants playtime. It was evident he knew I was lying and I soon learned why he was so confident in his position. As I was about to pull into my garage, I saw a bag in front of the garage door. I exited the MoMo-mobile to find that Mr. Bullshit had delivered an assortment of desserts to my residence to quell the raging hormone demons. In doing so, he had also taken the liberty of peeking into the garage to see if my car was there, which it wasn’t. So, I reverted to my natural inclination of unfiltered truth-telling and told him about Mr. Ken Doll and Mr. Chameleon. That was a fun conversation – and by fun, I mean the complete opposite.
It was quite an emotionally roller coasting week for me, but somebody tell these specimens Princess MoMo is back. Until the next episode…
Epilogue:
What can we learn from this tale of four specimens?
1. Once you cross someone and breach their trust, do not expect them to trust you again and do not expect them to hold you in the same esteem or bestow treatment onto you that you failed to bestow onto them.
2. Ladies is pimps too; go and brush your shoulders off.
3. Clearly express your intentions. There is no such thing as objective reality. An individual’s reality is filtered through their experiences and particularized perception. You cannot fairly impute your perspective on someone else without explicitly communicating it and expect them to see your reality and act accordingly, especially if you barely know the person and vice versa.
4. Fuck chameleons and life lesson givers. This ain’t a movie dawg. Don’t roll up in my life and tell me I’m doing it wrong. And, my blog is awesome. So stop trying to ruin the engaging story-telling for everyone.
5. Lying is stupid. There is no point in sparing someone’s feelings only to be stabbing them in the back or misleading them about actual time it takes to paint a bathroom.
6. In connection with #4, I’d like to say that before you anoint yourself as Sigmund Freud, I am very self aware and realize that my dating conduct is, in part, dictated by defense mechanisms. I openly acknowledge that. I refer you back to #3.
7. Advice unsought is often ill-received. And, you’re welcome. :)
THE END.
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