“Fool me once, shame on you, fool me three times…WTF is wrong with me??? – 10/23/15

So I got stood up last night at Rudy’s Can’t Fail Café.  By a guy who had flaked on me twice previously.  Now, before you go getting all Judgy McJudger about why it is I can’t manage to make better choices about men, know this:  there are very good reasons why I gave him so many chances.  For example, reason #1: I’m getting pretty desperate.

RUDY'S CAN'T FAIL CAFE - OAKLAND, CA

And by desperate I don’t mean that I’m just going to smooch on just ANY ol’ body, but I will say that I have indeed LOWERED my EXPECTATIONS.  I mean, I do understand that as I get older, so do the potential men in my life, and thus, the potential pool from which to draw.  I get all of this.  What I DON’T get is why it is so goddamn difficult to follow through with a simple f#cking commitment.  

This is, yet ANOTHER OKC (OK Cupid) flop.  Another one in what is shaping up to be a very long list of OKC flops, as OKC continues to goes the way of Craigslist.  As in: you used to be able to get a decent date on Craigslist; now what you can get on Craigslist ‘aint free.  

So we virtually met, exchanged a couple of e-mail messages of interest, and then I gave him my number.  We set up a date for a Tuesday evening, after he got off work (he does a 9 – 6 grind) at 7. 

By noon that day, I found myself thinking “Could it really be that I am going to go on a date with a REAL LIVE MAN?!?  Could this really be happening?!?"  By 3pm, things were still *looking good* and by 5:00pm, he had texted a note of cancellation: *working late.*  What a lame excuse, right?  Except that THEN he followed that text up with the following text at 5:10pm:

Have this last min print job we got to do. 

And I thought it was sweet of him to go through the trouble of describing his excuse in detail.  And then, at 10:10p.m. the following text arrived:

Just wrapped up.

How sweet, right?!? So perhaps he was called in to work late, and really was working; either that, or he’s got his elaborate stories pre-lined up.  

I texted him that I was happy to receive his play-by-play of the evening and wanted to know if he wanted to set up a meet and greet for another evening.  That was October 21.  Three days later, I get this text:

Sorry for the lag…my phone took a shit...had to get a new one! 

Quickly followed by:

Did I miss my window?

Again, I ask you dear reader: how could I resist?  All of that potential, wrapped up in so much humility and charm???

I thanked my potential suitor, this time for his fabulous excuse.  A few text messages later, and we are, once again, set for Rudy’s – this time at 9:30pm for dessert.  

I am teaching a yoga class prior to the date, so I tell him that I will re-confirm at 9pm, which I do, and I hear nothing back.  Well, no news is good news, my optimist/desperate person suggests, and off I go - in FULL DAZZLE - out the door to Rudy’s. 

Arriving promptly at 9:30pm, I decide that I should grab a table and make my desperation look…less desperate.  So I grab a table (next to a gentleman sitting solo…see this is normal, right? Except that as i sit down and glance over, i can't help but notice that he is just wrapping up his meal...looking really, really bloated - almost as if it would hurt to move.  And I cant help but think to myself that that is going to be me in a few short moments.), and by 9:40, I just KNOW he’s not coming, but I text anyway:

Are you coming?

Crickets.                                                                                                                                                                      

So I order the chili cheese fries (without the chili…the waiter was- super nice to me to make the modification: he pitied me) and a chocolate malt.   With a side of sadness and despair.   And a very difficult next day, gastrologically speaking.

I remain hopeful.

"NOOZ FLASH! NOOZ FLASH! NOOZ FLASH! Ritz Kracka morphs into an OREO Cookie!" 10/10/15

Today, during my weekly pilgrimage to the Grand Lake Farmer’s Market, I opened my big Riz Kracka MOUTH (when it was probably an opportune time to keep it SHUT), and I got called an “OREO COOKIE BITCH.”

"OREO COOKIE BITCH"

For those of you who are not familiar with the Oreo cookie as it refers to a PERSON, it is a person who is: black on the OUTSIDE and WHITE on the inside. 

It’s my fault, really.  You know when you are having one of those days when the NEXT m#thrfkr to say something sideways is going to CATCH it from you? Well, that’s exactly what happened.  

And I am not PROUD to admit that it was an older, black gentleman, likely living close to the skids, with whom I had this altercation.  Honestly, if it would have been a younger, larger white man, I would have QUITE POSSIBLY (most definitely) kept my trap SHUT.  But it wasn’t, and I didn’t.   

The altercation went something like this:

He (coming up to me as I am locking my bike): Miss, miss, are you a sister?

Me (pausing…thinking/reacting in my head “GODDAMIT!  Why does EVERYBODY feel the need to CLASSIFY ME???):  Would that make a difference to you?

He: Yes it would because…..

I start to walk away. Terrible move, for a number of reasons, all of which i am certain you are mentally listing at this moment. 

He: Hey! Whatchu’ doin’?  Don’t walk away from me!

Me (pissed off, but i feel as though i am somehow missing something, like an appendage, so I LOOK BACK and I now i have to GO BACK because I left my lawn chair strapped to my bike):  [managing something silly and flustered, like] Sir, you know that we are ALL actually brothers and sisters here, all of us here (gesturing with my arms, as i have now become quite expressive), so the fact that you are ASKING me whether i am a sister makes NO SENSE to me AT ALL!

I turn around and walk away again.  Two steps later – even MORE pissed off, because now i need to redeem myself for the silly little thing i said, and now I know that he is not going to do anything, because he would have by now, plus the fact that he is probably 10-15 years older, and in a pinch – I am CERTAIN i could take him in a foot-race) I say: 

“Because, sir, the reason you asked me in the FIRST place is because YOU weren’t SURE whether I was black or white.  And I really wouldn't think that aught to matter to you, given that YOU are asking ME for HELP!”  Then I turned on my heel and walked away a third time.  

He:  (yelling something, of which I caught bits and pieces amidst the fury) I was just ... by a WHITE WOMAN...from the KKK (i don't exactly remember what was said, but white woman and KKK were DEFINITELY in the mix) you OREO-COOKIE BITCH!”   

And that was that. 

Lesson learned? When it comes to being offended? Just don’t.  And don’t be a (sh)ero when you could just be an Oreo and leave it at that.  Oh, and also: don't make the most vulnerable among us the enemy.  

carry on.