Confessions of a Married Ukranian

I don’t think I shared this when it happened, but in my epic fail trip to Boston, I met a guy on the bus on the way back. He is a Ukranian guy I’d met when he asked me about how to solve a Rubik’s cube (which I had been solving at the time). Bonding over Rubik’s cube solvage and a discussion about skydiving lead to us sharing emails and going on a bike ride a few weeks ago. 

It was awkward.

A fun ride in the park, of course, but very strange as far as unconfirmed first dates go. It was one of those ambiguous “hanging out” sessions where you just don’t know if it’s supposed to be a date, friendly, or a business connection.

Last night I didn’t really want to get together, but I’m on this new kick where I try to say “yes” to things as much as possible to be open minded (newflash to myself: if your instincts do not immediately say “yes”, do not say “yes”.) I had already said “yes” too many times. Last night was our second “hang out/ date/ wtf.”

I arrived at the Park Slope bar we had agreed to meet in. Some band he wanted to see was there. I was already crabby from being tired and also being lost in Park Slope, but I was trying to be cool. I figure at least I’ll have some wine, listen to good music, and be able to mention in person that I don’t see this continuing and just clear the air about the dating vs friend zone confusion. As soon as I got there, he tells me in broken English:

“So, I need make a confession to you. I am world’s worst liar.”

Me: “Okay. What are you talking about?”

Him: “I am 38 years old. I have marriage for 10 years. I have 8 year old daughter. I did not tell you this on purpose.”

Me: “Um. Yeah. I don’t remember any of this. Why didn’t you tell me?” (Fingers crossed that it’s just an oversight)

My second "date" was comparable to this.

Him: “Well, because from this perspective, it looks like I fall in love with you? I have bad sleep for weeks. I think of you all time. And my marriage I re-valuate. I am at that point in my life.”

Me (in head): What. The. Fuck? I am an accessory to a mid-life crisis.

Me (out loud): “Wow. Um. This is a lot to process.” 

I ended up drinking 2 more glasses of wine. Because, mainly, what ran through my mind was “I can’t wait to blog about this.” So much awkwardness. Sometimes I stay just to see what happens, and this was looking up from a content perspective. 

Him: “Would you like to listen to the band?”

We had come to hear the band. I’d assumed they were having a warm up session, but apparently the show had been going on for a while.

Me: “Sure.”

We went to the back to see the band. It sounded like 7 people throwing brass instruments down a well. Retrospectively, it was Brooklyn and they’re probably playing for free in a bar that is the size of Carrie Bradshaw’s walk in closet. A jam session is about what I should have expected.

Me: “Awesome.” (Apparently, I am actually the world’s worst liar.)

He ended up giving me a ride home since it was dark when we left. Due to a previous discussion we had had about Crème Brulee ice cream on our bike ride, he had bought me some. He had it wrapped up in some cold paper towels to keep it from melting. Just waiting in the car. 

Nothing creepy about any of this. Nothing at all.

Now today I’ll have to let him down in an email, throwing around terms like “inappropriate relationship” and hoping this doesn’t turn into something weird and stalker-y. This guy only knows the area I live in (I had him drop me on the corner) but hopefully he doesn’t wise up to which apartment. 

What immediately comes to mind was when I was in college and I used to get index cards and hair clips left in plastic bags on my car windshield in my apartment parking lot. Usually with cryptic notes like “I love you, Ponytail” on the index card. Never even figured out who left those, but let’s just say I’m very happy that I’ve never been kidnapped and forced into a trunk at knifepoint. Seems like that should have happened to me by now. 

Also, I think I am done with my “Yes Girl” thing.

Boundaries.

I’ve been incredibly lonely lately. I realized that I am closer to my roommate (a girl I have known for less than 3 months) than I have been with any boyfriends I’ve had in the last 3 years. This may be because she is not someone I am trying to impress, and I make less than no effort to “keep the mystery alive.” How anyone does it in marriage is beyond me. 

Some example conversations I have had with my roommate that exhibit the nature of the relationship include:

• Bowel movements, including the phrase “I spent the whole day in the bathroom. I was basically just shitting a pile of wet sand. It was probably the tacos.”
• Vinegar faces. “So, when he cums, he bites his tongue in his cheek and I couldn’t figure out why I recognized it for a while. But THEN I realized it’s the same face my grandma makes when she’s concentrating really hard.”
• Dietary habits. “I am too lazy to cook. I think I am going to eat these Chef Boyardee raviolis from the can. Don’t judge. Less dishes.”
• Health issues. “…you know how sometimes when you have diarrhea and there’s sometimes blood in it?”
• Relationships. “Do you ever wake up because you farted in your sleep, but then you wonder ‘Wait. Was it him?’ I just can’t wait until we can cross the ‘fart boundary.’ I have been holding it in like crazy.”

Me dashing out of the kitchen, but less blood.

This morning we crossed the threshold of “apartment nudity” when she came upstairs to find me cutting up cucumbers in the kitchen- naked. (Yes, I get ready for work completely naked until the last minute when I finally cave to being confined by conventional clothing. No, I did not know she was home.)

As soon as I saw her coming, I ran off to my room (knife still in hand, probably looking like Christian Bale on his hooker killing spree in American Psycho) and she yelled down the hall after me “Dude! I don’t CARE that you’re naked!” For having met this girl on Craigslist 3 months ago, I’d say I hit the jackpot.

Moronically upbeat mug... I want one.

I’m not saying I would want to have all (or any) of these conversations with a significant other, but it’s nice to just be able to let your guard down and do/say whatever you want around someone. I’ve never gotten there with a boyfriend. I’m always jealous of people in these happy, carefree, completely non-PC  relationships. How do people FIND people who accept them for who they are?! Even after months of dating, I always still feel the need to keep constantly shaved legs, NEVER talk about anything that occurs in the bathroom, will not take off makeup in front of him, and definitely don’t go completely caveman on my food like I do when I’m alone. Not even when I’m drunk!

  

Maybe I’m just one of those people who wasn’t meant to have a One.