The Manizer.

I'm starting to feel like a jerk. A reverse-womanizer. A manizer.

Already, just from 3 goofy Craig's posts, I have professional men practically banging down my email account, offering to take me out to expensive restaurants without even having seen my photo. Frankly, it's shocking. I've always had a certain touch with men, but I'm not used to this. Words touch. It's just freaky.

Who says there are no men out there? They get attached to me just from reading my profile. Or maybe they just want to get laid by the Sexy Little Clown. Can I even live up to my vivacious Craig's List profile? I'm afraid it's setting the expectations too high.

May I introduce you to Samarjit?

But you can call him Sam.

This is what Sam wrote me and it worked:

"Hi There..I am a 29+ male in your city. I am 5'11 165lbs slim/athletic. I have attached my pic. I was born in Brazil and grew up in South Africa. Been in the states about 8 yrs now. I work for Audubon Society. I do documentaries on exotic places..such as Peru, Chile, Egypt etc. I love travelling...never thought I would be so into long flights and sleepless nights..but well..things worked out.

I liked your post...very open and honest...and thats what I like in a woman. It was hilarious that you mentioned about a guy paying for dinner.

I hope we can hit it off. Looking forward to hearing from you.

cheers"

Attached to this message was a professional photo of a very elegant-looking, trim man. I was instantly suspicious. Partier? Womanizer?

***

Sam and I emailed back and forth trying to meet, and he was rather demanding, asking me to go to his area. I was getting the impression that he was a little self-centered. Finally I just decided to be myself. I wrote this:

"RE: life is too short to meet at starbucks

"It would be much easier to do this on a day that I'm on the train. (I really don't like throwing away $8 on parking.) And I'll tell you the truth, if there are places I'd go in my precious, spare free non-mother moments, one of those places would not be starbucks. It would be a place that is in some way memorable. Life is too short to meet at starbucks. "

Then he responded:

"Then we can meet up some other day...since you have a very short time today. Would monday work better?
Let me know whatever works best for you."

Then I responded:

"Hi Sam,

The best thing for me would be if we were to meet right outside of the Washington Center right by the Monument of the Standing Beast very briefly. Hope that works for you.

Nathalie"

I expected that my little sass would perturb him, but it seemed to just intrigue him. (Tip to the ladies: Reverse psychology must be artfully employed, but it definitely has its place.)

The afternoon that we met, I had been sitting in the lower atrium of the federal building - had been planning on meeting Sam up by the "Monument with Standing Beast", but I saw a tall, elegant, well-dressed man looking like he was looking for someone walk by. Then he sat by the center of the atrium, playing with his fancy phone.

I went up and introduced myself...Sam scanned my face and looked confused. Was he disappointed? Did I look different from my photo? I couldn't make out his expression. Maybe I should send out various pics, I thought...

He was different - slimmer shoulders, flappier ears. He was quite wispy in his movements. There was something feminine about him, and he was not establishing himself as the "Alpha" - I was. We walked to the corner bakery and I had this thought: I could take him down if I really tried. That's not a great sign, cause I like a man who's got some oomph to him.

I have this thing that I have realized about myself as of late - I like to be with a man whom I perceive could "throw down" if he needs to. I guess you could say, a manly man - a gentle man with a tough streak. A man with a bit of street credentials thrown in. A man who could get me in a headlock I can't escape from.

I did perceive some qualities that impressed me though as the moments passed...he was quite a sophisticated conversationalist and didn't pry. (Men, take this tip - be like Sam.) As we stood in line and I made stupid jokes, he asked, "How did you get so witty?" I looked at him to see if he was serious. He was.

We sat down and then I noticed it. The Portuguese look of his eyes - they were pretty - and had some edge to them. I had to look away, a lot. I kept looking out the window and he kept trying to see what was out there, like he expected an elephant to stroll past.

I suggested that we go to an Indian place sometime, and he agreed. I felt at ease with him, and I told him. "It's easy talking to you." His eyes were definitely bright.

And as he walked me to the bus, he covertly answered his phone..."Hello. Yes, I'll be there in 10 minutes. (Somewhat exasperated,) I will. Ten minutes. Goodbye." I turned to him and asked, "You're not married, are you?"

"No."

He seemed harried suddenly, rushed. I gave him my card and he seemed impatient. But I still was sure when I got home, there would be a message..."Nathalie...I had a great time with you this afternoon...."

I couldn't help it, as I took the bus down Michigan Avenue, I looked up at the 4-star restaurants with stylish decor and started imagining myself eating in dimly lit, elegant places with him and accompanying him to sophisticated events.

I checked my email as soon as I got home. But there was nothing. Haven't heard from Sam, and it has been 5 days. I don't get it. What were his eyes all about? Did I blow it by asking if he was married? Did he think I was some kind of possessive lady? Was he married? Was I too straightforward when I gave him my card? Was he looking for a hunt and chase scenario? Well, I don't truly want to play "run away until he catches me". (Though it works.) I just want to be my lovable, straightforward self.

I'll just keep rollin' those dice. Seems to be part of the trick.

Riding the Post-Craig Train.

Now when I ride the train, wait on the platform, and move through the swarms of people, every man who looks my way is potentially a man who posts on Craig's List and looks at me trying to figure out if I post on Craig's List too. I know that this is very neurotic but it could happen to you - I wonder if this is a common feeling that urban add-posters experience initially. It's like initial-posting-shock.

Mommy, Look What I Found!

My three-year-old son is irresistably drawn to my bedside table. It has the usual fare in it: ear plugs and condoms.

Jack knows that he's not supposed to play in there, and he usually obliges, however it had been months, and the overwhelming urge to sneak a peek had crept up on him.

He came out in to the hall, saying, "Mommy, look what I found!" He held up a gold Trojan Magnum like a first-prize candy award, triumphantly in the air.

And I found myself doing that stupid thing that verbally-grappling mothers do. "Put that back. You don't want that. That's medicine." Sometimes, you just don't know what to say.

Should I be hiding these things? I don't think so. It's a part of life, and shouldn't be shameful. So why do I say it's medicine? Cause he's only 3, right?

I remember on a daily basis my friend Melissa and I would trudge over to her wholesome parent's bedside drawer and extract multi-colored, mint flavored condoms, and delightedly conjure all of the potentially illicit acts that could be performed with the colorful little gems.

Someday, I'll explain. No, lets hope there's a man around to do it by that time.

The 2nd "Date": William

My second "meeting" was with William. He seemed promising. His photo seemed promising too. (Dark and Mediterranean looking. The only part I did not like was the Cubs hat.) This is what William wrote me that reeled me in (so cute):

"I mean I am not saying that you should be impressed that I know who Mr. Noodle is or even what his brother's name is (Mr. Noodle) but I definitely think it's something that we could talk about than that I am 32-yr-old 5'9" northsider with 1 son (who doesn't live with me but I who see almost everyday) and a job and all my teeth. I can also make an INSANELY good grilled cheeses sandwich. Oh, and I never litter and I always tip 20% and I know that irregardless is not a word and never will be. William"

Excellent intro! I liked.

We decided to meet by a train stop, at his suggestion, which I thought was a fantastic idea. From his casual finesse, it seemed like he had done this a multitude of times and was becoming an expert.

I was early and waited for him in a slutty shoe store; you know, the kind with furry high-heeled boots and platform shoes. I peered through the sheer curtain, trying to make out if any new person was waiting there out of the small swarms that kept exiting.

Finally, unable to decipher anything from behind the sequined platform heels, I exited and saw a balding man in a black jacket holding an open tin of Altoids. Could this be him? I was very confused. The guy in the photo wasn't bald. As I looked him over, I caught a spark in his eye. You know, the "Hungry Man" look. (This is the look that lets me know I'm not doing too bad in the sex appeal department. It is the look that makes me go...phew!)

I timidly moved in his general direction and he held up the tin of Altoids to me. I took one awkwardly. Except I already had gum in my mouth, so I held it. "Are you William?" I asked. "I am. Do you just go around taking mints from strangers?"

I had a flashing memory of my first love interest, Sean O'Grady, a burly muscular blond 7th grader with a puggish face. We were on the same soccer team. He had offered me a "cert" on one of our walks and I later giggled with my friends that it meant he had planned to kiss me. But I never even kissed him. The thought had terrified me, despite the strange "baby" erotic undercurrents that I felt when I was around him.

Somehow, William's "mint move" did not make me as uncomfortable as Sean O'Grady's once had. Yeah, it was cheesy, but he somehow pulled it off. What made me uncomfortable is that he looked nothing like his photo. He was pale and nondescript compared to the dashing Mediterranean gent I had seen in the photo. Looks-wise, he was the type of person that could get lost in a crowd. And I do feel terrible about saying that. But he kind of deserves it, for having covered his bald-spot with a Cubs cap.

I don't mind a balding man, but there should be no deceipt involved. If you're balding, put it out there and work with the assets you do have. (It's just reminding this Puerto Rican friend I had named Pamela - not balding, just a random thought - who was not "pretty" but extremely sexy and elegant...She was talking about a girl who was pretty but didn't ever have a boyfriend cause she lacked that oomph...She said, "I'm not pretty but I use what I have well. And men like me." It was true, she wasn't skinny or technically pretty but her self-confidence was overwhelming.) But lets get back to my "date" with William.

We walked around instead of going to a cafe, at my request. William was sharp and witty, though we didn't really seem to connect. But I started getting this tragic sense of how terrible it must be to be a man on these dates. You have half an hour (if you're with me...Though I could stretch it if I really think there's potential,) to prove that you're the proper candidate. Men start doing these tap dances to prove how intelligent and kind they are.

William was loaded with wittiscisms, and I liked him. There just wasn't anything there for us.

After half an hour, we waited on the platform to board our respective trains. I was telling him how on my trip back from Japan, the guy next to me was a chronic sniffler and I had to stand in back by the bathroom and talk with people for 12 hours cause he was making me too nervous. Then I started imitating his sniffles, and William got this look all over his face that almost seemed like a longing to connect with a woman, and silently boarded his train without even a goodbye.

And I had this strangely poetic sense that William was a true gentleman, and that I'd never see him again.

Meet My First "Date," Gary.

But you can call him Garold.

Gary contacted me after my first add. This is what he wrote:

"So you are a rock star mom... got it all together and enjoying the ride... good for you. I think of myself in the same light. I have two beautiful girls that Iadore beyond belief.

I play guitar (as a hobbie, not professionally), and love to try to sing. Good at guitar, lousy at voice...but I don't care too much.

I got the body you want and I don't do the treadmills(though I used to). My focus is yoga... I love it andwish I had found it 20 years ago! At least I have itnow. It keeps me in great shape... never sweated so much... who would have thunk!

I'm 5'11" and 175 pounds. I am very fit, a romantic, and intelligent (BSEE, MBA, and people apparently want to hire me). Financially, I can't complain. I have a lot of freedom in my work and can set my own rules.

I am not religious, though very spiritual. I love life and find it sad that it is so short and a one shot deal (as far as we know). The trick is making the best of what we are given.

I can cook decent arabic cuisine... tabouli, stuffed grape leaves, hummus, etc; but don't know latin dance(but would love to learn). I am also fond of commas (but love parentheticals). I'm not a capricorn!

I assumed you wanted a picture so am attaching one...if you respond, I would expect the same. I hope to hear from you!

Gary"

***

I decided that Gary would be relatively harmless and decided to meet him at Sobi Cafe after work. I was wearing quite a sexy black get-up that day and suspected it would be a little distracting for a man, but I thought - fuck it - I need a guy who can handle it. No Puritans for me. I'm not going to water myself down for anyone.

I got there first and it was a very strange feeling, looking around at every man, trying to figure out if any of them looked like the photo of Gary, and if any of their shirts looked vaguely green, as he had told me that he'd be wearing a green shirt. The wait-staff were so busy chatting amongst themselves that they weren't bothering to acknowlege me (one of my real pet peaves) which wasn't helping my gentley burgeoning feeling of discomfort. There was only one thing to do - Go to the bathroom. I shook my hair out upside down, put on lip-gloss again. Swung my dry-cleaning over my shoulder and strutted back out into the cafe.

There I found a spritely little man in a mint green t-shirt, looking quite perky and excited to see me. He asked, "Where did you come from?" That was off to a bad start, because it's a hard question to answer. I don't know. Maybe I didn't think that mint green was manly enough. Maybe it was that he had sloping shoulders and looked much smaller than his description of "I got the body you want." And his hands were undefined and soft-looking, like two tamales. I was just feeling that the world was a dizzy and disconcerting place.

But, alas, a twinkling of his eyes, I had wanted to escape already, but the twinkling of his eyes was...kind of cute. They briefly imbued me with a spark of hope. For a moment I thought...OK, I'll just try to briefly enjoy this human being.

But the twinkling wasn't powerful enough to sustain any true feeling of pleasure and comfort, because Gary did something very "American": He began to grill me. A man should never, ever grill me, cause I'm way too honest and I will answer all of his questions and then feel totally naked and vulnerable. And as I began to answer, a mounting look of concern was growing on his face. Me telling the truth about my life was obviously making both of us very uncomfortable.

Wait a minute! I suddenly felt that I was interviewing for a job that I didn't even want. And I had to tolerate his penetrating, concerned gaze, which was setting me into such a state of unease, I just wanted to cave-in on myself. I felt my heart burrying itself deeply within my chest, and just wanted to say, "Go away!"

I just knew that in the future, this sensation would have to be prevented. It was intolerable!

Then he became the cop. "I see you posted another add. Have you met anyone good?" Then he started asking me about my ex, my son's father, shooting multiple questions at me like a machine gun of male emotional distress. And there I was, trying to change the subject but he kept trying to ferret out information. And I thought...this Gary guy has some serious issues with jealousy. I thought...his wife...obviously cheated on him...

Then he did something extremely disconcerting. He said, "I was separated 3 months ago. Is that going to be a problem for you?" Wait. Confusion ensues. I don't want the position! Had I given him the impression that I want the position? Has my polite manner conveyed any eagerness on my part? Oh shit! I gotta get out of here.

And then this cute blond college guy at the next table turned and just stared at me, long and hard. Gary had been talking a little bit loudly. If I were the blushing type, I would have blushed, but since I am olive complected, I probrably turned a pale shade of green, not unlike Gary's t-shirt. I said I had to go!

Gary offered me a ride to my son's nursery school in Evanston, and if you can believe it, I accepted cause I didn't want to walk back to the train, and it was getting late. I knew Gary was harmless, and was not surprised when I saw his SUV. He seemed like yuppie stock. I threw my dry-cleaning in the back - a mini-skirt, to be precise, and got in.

He asked me if I wanted to go out again. "Not really," I replied, "cause you were grilling me and it has been stressing me out. Why do you have to know so many details?" He said that he was sorry, but that he is a systems engineer, and what did I expect? All I could think was...In your next add, put: No systems engineers. But then, no, he'd see it and it would hurt his feelings.

Unfortunately I left my skirt in the back of his truck. And I recieved this message form him that night:

"Hi Nathalie,

So is it destiny when circumstances forces two people to come back together? Sorry you did not appreciate my inquisitive ways. You should realize that it is temporary and maybe also caused by some nervousness. I am not too comfortable dating as I have been out of practice for some time. Regardless... we need to get together again so that I can give you your dry cleaning!

Options 1: You could come over to my apartment and I could make you a romantic candlelit dinner, impress you with my newfound european blase attitude, serenade you with my guitar, then give you your dry cleaning.
Option 2: You can simply stop off at my office (or apt) and pick up your dry cleaning and be on your way.
Option 3: I can drop off your dry cleaning at your home.

I am assuming option 1 is out... so it is option 2 or 3. Let me know what works for you.

Gary"


I started to imagine Gary doing things with my dry-cleaning, like the boy in "The Door in the Floor". I still haven't gone to pick up my skirt. And Gary keeps writing me about it.

On The Road Again

"If you like what you see, hit me back."

Though I, as a single mother of a toddler (whom I'm largely leaving out of this blog,) am often computer-accessible on a Saturday night - post tuck-in - the guys I want to meet are often not.

***

I noticed that if I don't do something quick, I might never meet another man...so I decided to take action and posted some adds on Craig's List.

Why Craig's List? (They ask.) It doesn't feel as demoralizing as something like match.com because 1) I don't have to put my picture up for the world's perusal and 2) I can't write anything I want to without their supervisors editing the personality out of me. 3) I can post as often as I'd like, as differently as I'd like, and decimate them whenever I'd like to. Nobody can see who I am, no complications, no worries. 4) Posting on Craig's List has a casual feeling to it, not all oozing with desperation, like "I wanna meet me soulmate." It feels like the alternative dating website, where people who think match.com is degrading go. And believe me, the more sophisticated men out there won't go on match.com.

By the way, once I tried The Onion's dating service....I had a "supremely irritating" experience....I spent generous portion of time answering their little-dittie-questions as creatively I could, and then they'd publish 3 of my 20 anwers....then I logged-on as a male friend and it was even worse - when I looked at my profile, they had posted only one answer - to the dumbest question possible, like, "What's your favorite color?"....So not only did I not get responses, but a handful of Chicagoland men have seen my photo posted next to that one stupid question and answer, making it appear that it was the only question I had the capacity to answer. Never again!

In contrast to The Onion's experience, the sheer bounty of responses on CL was breath-taking. Fun, fun, fun! However, I didn't sense that anything would pan out from my Saturday night post, (never post on a Saturday night unless you want sex...frankly that isn't my scene...) so I tried again a few days later. I figured out that you should never post on weekends, cause only introverts or perverts reply on weekends...the rest of the world is out doing something more constructive. Those are the guys I want to meet.

This is Posting Number Two, an improved version of #1, which I erased:

Sexy Little Clown of a Mom - 32
Reply to: anon-105055753@craigslist.org
Date: 2005-10-18, 6:40PM CDT

Here we go again…Rolling those dice.

"Wonderful little terror” addicted to thoughts, commas, and people brighter than myself. I enjoy writing/notes/postcards/color copies/costume sketches/set models, vintage dresses/heels and excuses to wear them, spring, funny and bold people, trader joe's (great store), latin dancing (I’m good,) driving (sorry I didn’t mean to cut you off), sunshine, new ethnic recipes, rebellious yet charming people, unpredictable behavior. On that note, I scorn Evangelicals, whiney rich people, Republicans, rock songs with whiney male singers, Evangelical Rock, gay guys who act bitchy, restaurant chains, mealy apples, Furry Boots, Travel Tours, Agendas, Big Organizations, golfers, the Wiggles, people who can laugh on command, people who don't say thank-you, Capricorns, people who try to apply logic to me, people who don't love me, people who think I'm neurotic. I have a small son and he’s pretty fucking awesome.

I usually max-out my Chicago Public Library card.

I’ve lived in Central America. I’m bilingual in Spanish and if you speak another language I respect that a lot.

I believe in making friends. Anything that happens should develop naturally. Chemistry is boss. And you can’t know if it’s around via email. (And it seems incredibly rude to me to ask a man who doesn’t even know me to pay for a meal.)

I like to accrue new experiences and once I know you well there is very little that I’ll refuse to try. (I think THIS must be the line that has made responses pour in.)

I’m an “exotic white girl” with mischievous dark eyes. I tend to date ethnic. I’m 32 and still holding it way together physically. (However I don't plan on posting a photo for all of Chicagoland to see.) Of course I will send you a pic if I think we’ll click. I hope you're a handsome guy and you are in shape, but not egomaniacal. Though treadmills remind you of hamster balls. Going nowhere fast! (I'm going to go ahead and be superficial and say that I don't go for chubby guys. I’m in shape and expect the same from a man.)

You must be a gentleman, 29 or above, extremely open-minded, and a complete humanist. You’re the guy who helps old ladies across the street with their groceries. Yet you’re also an adventurer. You’re up for growth.

No "hook-ups".