Opposites Attract, Then Recoil Back

Even though I'm divorced, I fear that I still have the mindset of a married man. Married since forever and married longer than I've been single, it's been a long time since I dated and maybe because of that, and not being a player, makes me not just more selective but also more realistic. Without doubt, I'm not looking to make the same mistakes that got me where I am today, alone, lonely, and bored out of my mind. I just don't want to settle for anyone and anything. I want someone special. Just as Jennifer Nettles of Sugarland sings in her song, I want it all. I want the romance that goes along with love. I want the deep kissing, tight hugging, and long passionate holding. Wanting it all in full living color, I want the musical firework sex that I never experienced with my ex-wife.

I want to miss her, as soon as I walk out that front door and have the feeling that I can't wait to return home to her. I want her to feel the same way. I realize that it sounds unrealistic, but every day, I want us to reconnect in the way we did, when we first met, first kissed, and fell in love. Every day, I want that to be a new adventure with fresh memories that last forever. Infected by her positive attitude, wanting to be a better man for her, I want that one person who makes me believe that I can do anything and that everything is possible.

Yet, where is she and how do I find her? When I do find her, how will I know it's her? Will I just know and won't even have to question it? I know she's out there somewhere. I can just feel her heart beating for me. I know she's desperately looking for me, just as I'm desperately looking for her, but who is she and where is she?

I've tried the online dating thing, but I never had the courage to meet anyone. Unable to pull the trigger, I just corresponded, until the women grew weary of writing and disappeared. Always, there's another new woman to take her place. Meeting new women online allows me to keep my distance, while keeping me occupied somewhat. Still, I've never corresponded with any woman online that just blows back my hair enough to make me want to meet her. It's more fun doing those advance searches, where I put in all the things that I'd want in a woman and they always come back that they live in California or Oregon, clear across that part of the country that I fled from for the anonymity of Connecticut, after my divorce.

In the way my life is now, one day just bleeds into another and, after a while, I have no recollection of what I did or didn't do from one day to the next. After I divorced my wife, with my ex-wife and children living on the other side of the country and me moving east to avoid running into old friends and acquaintances, who'd invariably ask too many uncomfortable questions, I seldom see my kids. Both away in college now, they're too busy living life and I'm winding down, while enjoying the peace and quiet of living alone.

Going from my parents' house to taking a bride, right after graduating college, for the first time in my life, I live alone and, for the most part, I enjoy having the freedom to come and go as I please. Only, instead of living life large, I don't do anything and go anywhere. From the driveway to the highway, the only place I go to and return from is work.

"Work, work, work, work, work."

It's funny that, when I was married, especially towards the end, I was so restless. I just wanted to take off, just go, and drive nowhere in particular, just anywhere. Now that I can do that, I don't. I just stay home alone and vegetate, especially during those cold, snowy, winter months or those hot, hazy, humid days, when I don't even want to get out of bed to go to work.

After my divorce and after having lived a crazy life with a wife, kids, a job, friends, and relatives, at first the solitude was a welcome relief. Finally alone and on my own, it was fun looking for a place to live and buying my own furniture to suit my tastes. My ex-wife, Karen, would hate what I did with the decorating, as everything is glass, chrome, black, dark, modern, and masculine. She was just the opposite. She loved pastels and things that had charm and character. She loved antiques. I prefer everything new.

Now that I'm settled and have my routine just the way it was before, my life has become comfortably boring again. I duplicated my life to where it was going from a boring, stressed out married man to a boring, stressed out single man. Now hoping for something different, I'm wondering if there isn't something in the water that makes me remain the same.

Going from one end to the other and still with nothing ever changing, I need to find a happy medium. With too much work and not enough recreation, I need to find more of a balance in my life. Maybe this is what I needed to heal myself from my divorce. Now that all of that heartache, heartbreak, and misery is in my past, I feel that I'm finally ready now to meet someone, especially with the advent of spring and the warmer weather. Hoping we don't skip Spring in the way that the seasons morphed together last year, Spring is always the best time for love. Isn't it?

I'm embarrassed to admit, but some days, ensconced in the bachelor pad I created for myself, one that I never had, other than going to work, I don't leave the house. With a big screen TV, a great stereo, and a pool table, I've built a comfortable recluse, my safe haven. I like hanging out in my house alone. Only, I'm still young, 48-years-old, and in the way that I live in my inactive lifestyle, I act as if I'm twenty years older. I need to go out and experience life and see what fate has in store for me. Who knows, maybe I'll be surprised.

Weekends are the same, with me just hanging around the house, watching TV, wasting time on the computer, doing laundry, and taking the dog for a long walk. Now that the winter is over, I'm more active. Then, instead of walking Taz, the name of my dog, short for Tasmanian Devil, just around the neighborhood, I enjoy taking my dog to the dog park. With all the trees, greenery, and private paths that run through the forest, the dog park is so idyllic that I wish I could build a house and live here. Truly, my life is not so bad and I could live like this, secluded somewhere within the lush greenery of the dog park for the rest of my life. Only, I'd like to have more, namely a female friend, a companion, and a lover to share my good times and help me through my bad times, as I would for her. Nearly impossible to find my love match, why is that asking for so much?

For sure, when I think about the lack of love in my life during those lonely, rainy nights, I'd like to experience what life would be like to have another woman in my life, someone who gets me and who likes me for who I am. For sure, I wouldn't want a woman who didn't get my sense of humor. Laughing, when making fun of things, situations, and people, is what I do and what gets me through my day. I'm a big tease and a practical joker and some think that I'm arrogant or mean, but I'm not. I'm a real, soft touch. Sensitive and romantic more describes who I am.

Instead of the woman that I married, the total opposite of me, when trying to develop and maintain a relationship, it would be a thrill to be with a woman that has a similar background as I do. I yearn to find a woman who shares my nationality, religion, traditions, education, culture, and one who has had similar experiences are all so very important to me, especially now that I'm older and more set in my ways. Yet, realistically, especially at my age, when I'm not as open as I was when I was younger, I realize it will be difficult to share my life with another person. I know that now, with all the fighting we did, after trying to make it work for so many years with Karen and failing. All we did was argue and snipe at one another. I don't want to fight for love. I want to live for love. Is that too much to ask?

Then, again, all of that, having similar backgrounds, nationality, religion, traditions, education, culture, and experiences, went out the window, when I saw a total knockout that made me rethink my lonely existence and think of no one and nothing else but her. Oh, yeah, I fell and I fell hard, when I saw this woman at the dog park. Wow. She could have been Bo Derek's twin sister, only younger and more beautiful. She was one of those people who has a dog that looks like her, you know the type, tall, thin, shapely, athletic, and with long, flowing hair like Farrah Fawcett and that's just her dog. She has an Afghan hound.

I looked down at my dog to see if we looked alike and he looked up at me. Was he wondering the same thing, when he saw her with her dog? If I had any resemblance, at all, to my dog, I couldn't see it. Even though her dog was pretty to watch, especially when she's running, she's a big, dumb dog. Even from this distance, from across the dog park, I could tell her dog was dumb. On the dog intelligence scale, Afghan hounds are right up there with Irish Setters. My apologies in advance to Afghan hound and Irish Setter owners, but you know it, I know it, and everyone knows that your dogs are beautiful but dumb.

I've always been a terrier man and my dog is smarter than her dog, by far. The intelligence of terriers are only dwarfed by Poodles and Border Collies and maybe if there's a dog that's half Poodle and half Border Collie, but that's it. The terrier, when it comes to intelligence is right up there with Lindsay Lohan, Britney Spears, Paris Hilton, Kim Kardashian, and Charlie Sheen, with apologies to my dog for comparing his intelligence to those six idiots.

"Right Taz? He's a good boy. He's a good dog. Go ahead, go play with the pretty doggie, but do easy and be nice. No humping."

Anyway, the first time I met Christine happened when Taz was trying to get Paris, the name of her dumb dog, to play, but her dog wouldn't run with a lowly terrier. Because her dog wouldn't chase my dog, that frustrated my dog. He loves being chased and he's wicked fast. It takes a dozen dogs to wear out my dog. He never tires. He just runs and runs. If there is such a thing as an Eveready energizer bunny of dogs, it's Taz. He ran around her dog barking and nipping at her paws, which is how I met Christine.

"Come Paris, come. Paris come," she said a bit annoyed, when her dog refused to obey her.

It figures she'd name her dog Paris. Then, she looked at me with the look of exasperated impatience that my ex-wife gave me towards the end of our marriage. Always my ex-wife gave me that look, when she was waiting for me to do something, fix something, or leave the house to run errands, so that she could cheat on me behind my back with her boyfriend.

"They're just having fun being a dog," I said trying to act coolly aloof, while hoping to break the ice with a bit of conversation.

"Your dog is being so aggressive," she said looking over at my dog and then back at me, as if I was supposed to immediately call my dog away from her dog.

Actually, if I had any control over a terrier, I would have called him to come, but he wouldn't have come and that would have made me look bad that my dog was in control of me and that he was the pack leader, instead of me. Only, being a dog owner, she should know that no one has control over terriers. They do whatever they want, when they want to do it.

Are you kidding me? Even Cesar Millan, the dog whisperer, said that terriers are not only the hardest dogs to train but also are the most aggressive and the most difficult dogs to control. Yet, any time you see a circus dog riding a horse or an elephant, it's a terrier and, for sure, never an Afghan hound. Maybe because terriers like to dominate and think they're dominating a horse or an elephant by riding it's back, is why they use terriers.

Yet, why should I call off my dog? I was enjoying the game my dog was playing with her dog. Besides, if I called my dog away, my game would end, too, she'd be on her way, and I'd never get the chance to meet this beautiful creature.

"He just wants to play," I said but, as if she didn't even hear me, as if I was invisible and wasn't even there, she ignored me.

I really hate being ignored. That's so rude. Being ignored makes me feel small and invisible. I receive enough of that bad behavior in work. I certainly don't want it or need it, while having a relaxing day at the dog park.

When she didn't acknowledge me, I wanted to bark at her. I wanted to nip at her heels, while taking a peek beneath her skirt, but I figured she'd kick me. Then, I'd have to bite her.

"Woof! Woof! Woof!"

"Paris come," she said again, obviously looking embarrassed and frustrated that her dog suddenly refused to obey her. The dumb dog that she obviously was, Paris was content to stand there, while Taz, the crazy devil dog that my dog is, ran around her barking.

Hmm, apparently, the sudden sense that I received from this small exchange of animal versus human was that this woman is accustomed to being in control of not just her dog but, extrapolating from this one insight, of her life and any situation remotely relating to her life. I figured just by the way she was acting and reacting with her dog, she lived alone and had no husband or boyfriend. I just hoped to God that she wasn't a lesbian.

"Of course my dog is aggressive. He's a terrier, a Rat terrier and I never met a terrier that wasn't," I said with a laugh. "That's why they call them terriers, because they are such terrors," I said with a another laugh but, obviously not wanting to entertain more dialogue, she seemed anxious to be on her way. Not thinking what I said was funny, she didn't encourage me by laughing. "Matter of fact," I persevered, "I named him Taz, after the Tasmanian Devil," I said, but she just ignored me and whatever I said.

She was so rude and so unfriendly. I hate when women act like she acted to me. What a bitch? If she wasn't so damn beautiful, I'd already be on my way, but I was mesmerized by her. I've never seen a woman as lovely as she was. I, at least, wanted to know her name, so that when I dream about her naked and in my bed tonight with my hand firmly around my cock, I can call her by name.

"Well, please control your dog or put him on a leash," she said to me, while looking at her dog and before giving me a stern look that made me want to disobey her and sniff her, before peeing on her leg. "Come Paris, come," she said in a loudly impatient tone.

"My dog just wants to play," I said again with a smile, in case she didn't hear me the first time and as my excuse to look at her again. She was just so stunning. Normally, I see women at the dog park in jeans, sweatshirts, and sneakers without makeup, but this woman was wearing makeup and wore a short skirt that showed off her shapely legs. She could wear a plastic bag and she'd still look hot. "He wants your dog to chase him," I said smiling and looking at her possibly for the last time.

She was so uniquely beautiful and hoping opposites would attract in the way that Christie Brinkley was attracted to Billy Joel and Paulina Porizkova was attracted to Ric Ocasek, but obviously, we just weren't connecting. Barely looking at me, she didn't make eye contact or smile even. Other than beautiful, if I had to pick a word to describe her, she was a bitch, but what a bitch she was. I wondered if she was constipated. Maybe she just needs to take a good shit to give a shit about me and/or my dog. If I had a prune on me, I'd give her one. That's too bad that we didn't hit it off because I could see myself with her, that is, naked in bed and humping her, in the way that Taz was now trying so desperately to hump Paris, but he was too short and she was too tall.

Good dog. I taught him everything he knows, I wanted to say but didn't. He gets that from me, I wanted to say, but I didn't say that either. Bend over, I wanted to say, too, it's my turn to hump you. Only, I didn't say that either. It was enough to think that, while imagining her with her skirt up her back, her panties around her ankles, and her assuming the doggie style position, before falling to her knees and blowing me.

To be honest, even though she was frigging beautiful, the most beautiful woman I've seen in a long time, I didn't like her and thinking that we'd make a good pair was just a sexual fantasy on my part. Maybe because she didn't like my dog was my reason for me not liking her at first. Definitely, the way she acted towards me and my dog put me on off and on my heels. The other reason may have been because I didn't like her car. I was already in the park, when I saw her pull up with her big, dumb dog and her little Jap car.

She drove one of those Subaru Foresters. I hate those cars. Yeah, I know they're reliable, great in the snow, economical, and fairly cheap to buy and operate, but they're boring. I realize, if I'm not alienating people by calling Afghan hounds and Irish Setters dumb, then I'm pissing people off who drive Jap cars, specifically Subarus. Sorry, but I just don't like Japanese cars. I do like Japanese women, though, especially the ones in those X-rated videos that pepper the Internet. Unlike American women, Japanese women are so very attractively submissive. No doubt, exciting to be so in control of a woman in the beginning, an excess of that submissive behavior could be boring later.

Now that I think about it, since we're talking about cars, I don't like German cars either. Even though I love BMW's, I'd never buy one. I still hold a grudge dating back to World War II because they tried to kill my Grandfather. Yeah, I take that very personally, when someone tries to kill my Granddad. Had they succeeded in killing my ancestor, I wouldn't be here writing this story today. Instead of murdering the English language by talking slang, we all could have been speaking German and eating strudel or speaking Japanese and eating bowls of rice with raw squid.

My apologies to those people who drive Japanese cars and a Subaru specifically, but I'm only partial to one car. To be honest, if a car doesn't have a horse on the front grille and a Mustang logo on the back, then, chances are I wouldn't like your car either. Ah, there's nothing like the sound of a Mustang GT in the early morning or when going through a tunnel, unless it's a Ferrari, another car with a horse or a Lamborghini, a car with a bull for those born under the sign of Taurus. Unfortunately, the average Joe can't afford those cars. Most times, for the sake of listening to the rumble of the exhaust of my Mustang GT, I don't even turn on my radio. The loud sound of my exhaust is enough music for me.

Yet, this Nude Day story has nothing to do with cars or dogs, for that matter. It has more to do with a lifestyle and my lifestyle was so very different than Christine's that, even though, I imagined being with her, especially that night, when I was masturbating, while thinking about her naked, I could never be with someone like her. My ex is a fiery and emotional Italian, who swears a lot, while talking with her hands. That's the kind of woman I grew up with and am attracted to, whenever I consider inviting another woman in my life and into my bed.

Christine exudes high class, manners, and culture. Perhaps, had I named my terrier Jeeves, Reginald, or Martin, she may have more liked my dog. Nah, that wouldn't have worked either. She would have looked upon my dog, as she, no doubt, does her servants. I know, if I had the forethought to name my dog Rockefeller, Rocky for short, instead of Taz, that may have worked.

"What's your dog's name?"

"Rocky."

"Oh."

"His real name is Rockefeller."

"Really."

See?

For sure, judging by the way she enunciated her words, Christine was a college graduate from some special women's college, no doubt, Smith, Wellesley, Barnard, or Bryn Mawr. Just the way she carried herself and spoke, I could tell she was educated and probably had a master's degree in some useless social science. I could see her reading a book in a Cape Cod cottage or at the Hamptons, after Daddy died and left her all his money.