but I'm lover not a dancer

Last night I went to a big swing dance party -- and aside from being the least coordinated women in the entire room (of those willing to get out on the dance floor anyway), there weren't many men to meet.  Actually, I really like it that way.  I like to DANCE, and the best dancers are not necessarily the guys I would be attracted to and want to date.  Though I must admit, I thought Mr. Nice Guy would be there (he RSVPed on Facebook).  He wasn't.  Ah well.

After a few good turns on the dance floor, a nice conversation with Blue Balls (he was there, oh yeah...), and the realization that I really just wanted to get home, I grabbed my coat, put on my scarf, and stopped by the host stand to see if they validated parking.

So I'm waiting at the host stand, with my parking ticket held out, and some dorko-suav-ay sidles on up to me and tries to strike up some small talk.  I asked him how he liked the dancing, and he replies... "oh, I'm more a lover than a dancer." 

This guy could play Steve Jobs younger, dorkier brother on TV.  

I did not laugh in his face.  I did not falter, I just smiled and found some way to change the subject.  Then I tried to find some kind of escape, and failing miserably (I was still trying to get my parking validated) -- when I'm-A-Lover-Not-A-Dancer foisted his card in my face.  

Oh dear.  He's probably a wonderfully nice guy.  And dork.  And such.  Do I call?

I've got a crush... and the story about Blue Balls...

To be fair to Newfie, I developed a crush on Mr. Nice Guy before I knew much about Newfie.  I conjured an evening to get Mr. Nice Guy to my house for dinner (we have mutual friends).  Mr. Nice Guy is - well - a truly nice guy.  He's the kind of guy that's been single forever, but doesn't appear to be the consummate jackass bachelor.  He has lots of female friends, perfect manners, interesting hobbies and a great job.  Conversation with him is genuine and engaging.  He was the only person at the dinner party to help with the dishes.  Drool.  Oh, and he's a nice Jewish boy.  All these things are blinding to someone like me, and how I miss that he might have issues to still be single at 42.

He invited me (and 400 other people) to his birthday dinner last night, and birthday hike today.  I skipped the dinner in favor of the smaller group activity of hiking - there were only 7 of us who actually hiked.  I wish I could tell him that I have a crush, ask him out.  Am I imagining some intent/flirtation when he puts his arm around me, touches me on the thigh while we are in the car?   I hope not.  I got it bad.  And that ain't good.

And right about 11am when I show up to brunch (before the hike) is when the world reinforces just why I started this blog... There at the restaurant, sitting right across from Mr. Nice Guy is Blue Balls.  I couldn't make up stuff this good.

Remember I told the story about the predator at speed dating (see google-fu)?  And that "other nice woman" I ended up hanging out with?  She really was a cool lady - cool enough to fix me up with a friend of hers I (for reasons to be explained shortly) dubbed Blue Balls.  We went out for several weeks, and at the end of every date, on my doorstep, he would grope me so intensely that he was just about dry humping me.

For the record, if you get that aggressive before I invite you upstairs, I'm not inviting you upstairs unless I actually plan to sleep with you within about 5 minutes of walking in the door.  And I had an issue with Blue Balls - he would not invite me to his home.  I don't trust a man until I see how he lives, see for myself what books he keeps on his bookshelf, if he's smart enough to hide the porn, and figure out where he buys his groceries (a cupboard full of cheap Ramen for a 40 year old is bad news).

I suppose it made things worse for this guy that I had just read the best dating advice EVER.  Don't force a conversation with a guy about where a relationship is going.  Just be clear that you are not sleeping with someone unless you are in an exclusive relationship.  I questioned if this was good advice, until I tried it on Blue Balls.

After a few weeks of Blue Balls getting frustrated with the action on my doorstep, Blue Balls called me and we proceeded to have a 45 minute conversation where he kept saying that we had reached a "plateau" and he was frustrated.  And that he wasn't the type of guy to use this expression, but I was giving him blue balls.  (I guess you ARE the type of guy to use that expression, then.)

I repeated to him: "We're not exclusive, and I don't want to sleep with someone unless we are.  It's not fair to you, to anyone else I might be dating, and definitely not to me."   For the record, there really wasn't anyone else.  But that's irrelevant.

A smart man who really was interested in me would have said "I'm not dating anyone else." 

Blue Balls did not say this.  He emphasized the plateau, his frustration, that he never invited me over because he was a slob, and then he broke things off.   I was sad, in a way.  I wanted "the next level" with him, too - but our definition of next level was completely different.  I hoped he would open up his home and let me get to know him better.  He hope I would open up my bedroom and get busy.  Or at least that's how it seemed in our conversation that night.

About a year ago (maybe two years after our little dating diversion), I saw Blue Balls at a happy hour....  what I said must have finally sunk in, because he came up to me and said something to that effect, owned up to being a bit of a jerk and apologized.  If I was sweet, I would probably revise his nickname - but what fun would that be?  I have a feeling Blue Balls is a decent guy whose hormones made him miss a really important cue.

I'm glad I didn't sleep with Blue Balls anyway - that means there's no issue when I try start something with his friend Mr. Nice Guy.  Right?