Frustration

Frustration?

Talk about frustration!

Joe is 48 years old and recently got divorced from his wife of 28 years. Its been quite an adjustment as living alone has been something he has never done before and learning to take care of himself, as well as re-start his life, has been a comedy of errors. As an example I will say that on a recent trip to Joe's apartment I was faced with a flying circus of airborne bugs that, when resting, seemed to be clustered on the wall next to the pantry and whose length of existence was based on how soon Joe would come with a can of Raid before they flew away. It is evident, by the number of bugs flying around, that it was not often.

Joe did state that it had gotten out of hand as it started with a box of muffin mix that he had opened and left unused on the top shelf of the pantry and, even though he had already disposed of said mix (after two months of inhabiting the pantry) it now seemed that the mother of the swarm had taken up residence somewhere in the air conditioning vent and was breeding a multiple amount of troops to fly around and bug the heck out of him. On a recent visit I counted no less than 20 dead flying insects on the floor and a few perpetually splattered on the walls.

Joe was also very inattentive to the upkeep of his new apartment as his mind and heart seemed to be constantly thinking about romance and intimacy, not cleaning. Because of the deep emotional problems he had with his ex-wife he had not been intimate with anyone for many years and had not tasted the sweetness of a loving kiss, the ecstasy of a warm embrace, or the joy of a meaningful romp in the hay. Now, upon his divorce, Joe was ready to look for someone with whom he could have a warm, sensual, and loving relationship. Sex was also at the top of his list.

Easier said than done right?

The first place Joe began to look was the bar scene (isn't that where we looked when we were young?) but soon discovered that he was totally out of place in that environment. There were many rules he had either forgotten or never knew existed.

Example of these rules included: (a)Dress nice but not so nice that you look like a nerd, (b)make sure you look "cool" but not so cool that you look unapproachable, (c)be charming and funny but cold and aloof as well so they don't think you are needy, (d)be sexy and passionate but not so much that you look like a sex fiend and, last but not least, (e)make sure you have an original pick-up line because if you don't they will think you are boring and not even give you a second look.

After realizing that he would probably have to take a 40-hour course with the local expert on modern etiquette to master all of this (at $75 dollars an hour) he began trying to simply be himself (a definite no-no in the bar scene). Soon he became very confused and lost as the only person he had been able to establish a conversation with was the bartender and all she wanted to do was have him drink and give her a tip. Strike one!

The second thing Joe tried was placing an ad in the newspaper personals. After much thought he decided to place an ad he considered "close to perfect". The ad was placed under the title "Good Guy Here" and it read as follows: "Professional, single, 48, 6'3" 220lbs, good looking, witty, intelligent, charming, loving, thoughtful male who is honest, loyal, romantic and with good sense of humor. I am seeking passionate, professional, independent woman who is beautiful inside and out, 38-47 years old, and physically and mentally fit for spiritual beginning and unending romance". Within one week he had received 6 replies to his ad which warmed his heart and woke up his libido. He was now ready to find the love of his life.

He made a date with each of the respondents, on subsequent days, to meet at the local Barnes & Noble for a cup of coffee (just in case they were not what he expected and could easily back out of the date) and proceeded to get ready to treat each contact with the same ardor and determination as if he was looking for a new career change.

By the fourth date Joe was ready to give up as every woman that he had met so far seemed to have majored in exaggerative capabilities. Not one of them could be classified as passionate, professional, beautiful inside and out, and mentally fit. To finish it off none of them looked as if they could attract the local garbage man. He surmised, probably correctly, that personals were meant for people that could not get a date otherwise.

He was very discouraged and almost decided not to go to the fifth date but the voice on the phone had sounded very provocative and sexual and the curiosity of such a voice had been too much for him to cancel the date (hey, when was the last time any man could withstand a sexy voice on the telephone eh?). He decided to give it one more try.

Well, one could say that voices on the phone are not always a picture of truth but in this case Joe found that the 5th lady was as exotic and sexual as one could ever hope to find.

The lady was about 5'10", buxom to the extreme, was wearing a short mini skirt, had long legs, big thighs, and was sporting tall stiletto heels. Her short black hair was combed forward in an exotic way and her breasts were jutting out like hills on a meadow. She was not pretty but she was attractive. She talked incessantly, in a brash New-York-kind-of-way, and never stopped to take a breath between sentences. Her life and her experiences with men were the main topics and never once bothered to ask any questions of Joe. Parts of his body got up and took notice but parts of his mind shut down.

Joe began to feel a growing concern that any relationship with this lady would probably mean a purchase of ear plugs (an expense he had not counted on). In the first two hours of conversation he had only been able to utter "I see" once and that was only when she decided to take a drink of water. In addition, he realized that this lady was very sexually knowledgeable (something acquired with a lot of experience) and that to consider a sexual encounter with her would mean having to use protection (like what you put on the toilet seat of a public restroom). It was something that he did know if he could do as he had never tried it before.

Joe was unable to make any decisions on the first meeting and decided to invite her out for a second date and see what another meeting would uncover.

Well, "uncover" was certainly something she had in mind for the second meeting as she began the date by making sure that he was totally aware of the extent of her breasts. Every time he moved, in one direction or the other he would find her protruding bosom bumping into some part of his body (to this day, etched imprints of her breasts still remain on his arms, hands, chest and back).

The mental picture of this woman lying naked in his bed was very appealing but the thought was tempered by visions of being forced to enter into verbal abstinence (she would never let him say one word), sexual exhaustion (she would never let him breathe), and blindness (her bosom might find its way to being etched into his eyes). He also feared that if the protection ever failed he might have to visit many doctors and face a very short life span. At the end of the night he decided to put this experience behind him and say goodbye. Strike two!

The third solution that popped into Joe's mind was to buy a computer and enter the new world of the internet and take advantage of what many people were calling "the new age of romance" where it was advertised that you could find, among thousands of women online, the woman of your dreams.

The first thing that Joe realized, regarding online romance, is that there were literally thousands of women to talk to and that to try to talk to all of them was causing him to stay on the computer for hours on end, not to mention the fact that half the time he did not know if the "woman" on the line was actually female or someone playing the part. Nonetheless, soon after he bought the computer, he started talking to a lady who lived about 400 miles away and who had a nick (computer jargon for name-to-hide-by) of "Celestial Vixen". Right after the first few conversations he felt he had found someone with whom to have a great love affair. Love at first byte.

It seemed incredible to Joe how open, honest and loving the conversations had been and the tag of "soulmate" soon started to be tossed around. After a couple of weeks of conversation, much of which had bordered on being extremely sexual and explicit, pictures were exchanged. She looked attractive enough to meet his physical requirements and a plan was conceived to meet and consummate the relationship. The picture she sent did seem to be an old picture and a "glamour" shot but since Joe's libido was working overtime that small "fact" no longer seemed so important.

As the date of the meeting approached, he could not control his excitement. He felt physically attracted to her (he had looked at her "glamour" photo a thousand times) and thought he was "in love". He believed this was someone with whom he could have the relationship he had been yearning for. As he embarked on the 400-mile trip, one Friday morning, visions of lying blissfully naked in bed with his loved one the entire weekend kept flashing through his mind. As he drove, on that blistering summer day, each mile closer to his sweetheart seemed a lifetime.

When he finally arrived in her town and began following directions to her house he started to notice that he was entering what appeared to be a very poor section of the city. By the time he turned into the street she lived on, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach had already begun, "Oh well, there is no crime in being poor is there?" he told himself and proceeded to park in her driveway. He got out of his car (with his suitcase in hand) and proceeded to ring the doorbell.

The door opened and a lady dressed in a stained sweat shirt, wearing old and torn jeans, sporting a crooked nose, and looking quite overweight answered and said "Hi Joe, I am so happy to finally meet you". As he entered her home the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach had begun to feel as if he had an ulcer. Not only was her physical appearance not what he had anticipated but her home felt like he was in a funeral parlor (prevalent colors were black, purple and brown). The place smelled as if someone who had eaten a whole lot of hard-boiled eggs had died and was stored in the living room. Needless to say this was strike three!

So, upon dislodging himself from the obligation of spending the weekend with her(he explained that he had to leave immediately as he had just found out on his trip to see her that his father had suffered a great loss in the market, his mother had run off with the milkman, his sister was pregnant and the he had forgotten to feed the cat), he drove back vowing to give up women all together.

As is so often the case destiny has a way of always entering when things look their bleakest. The very next evening, after his return, he was washing clothes in the laundry room of the complex he lived in when the loveliest creature on earth entered his life and said "Hi there". Upon hearing that heavenly sound he knew he had found the woman of his dreams. That night they sat down, next to the washing machines, and talked about each others dreams and hopes and when the washing machine cycle turned to "rinse" it felt like trumpets from heaven were ringing (true love had been found).

Within a few days, after many phone calls and meetings on the hallway, he decided to ask her to come over for dinner at his place (he was a great cook) and she accepted. He took his time to clean up all the dead flying insects in his apartment, wash the walls, pick up all the strewn newspapers, and make the bed (even perfumed it). He went out and bought several beautiful candles (a tulip one for the centerpiece as well as a perfumed one for the bedroom), shopped for the ingredients with which to make his best dish, ironed his best shirt and pants, put a soft jazz CD in the record player, and dressed the dining room table with a striking aqua and mauve lacy tablecloth. He did everything possible to turn his apartment into a romantic paradise for the occasion.

The fateful moment arrived as the doorbell rang and the woman of his dreams stood there looking about as beautiful as a woman can and, after inviting her in and giving her a sweet and loving kiss, he proceeded to serve the dinner that he had so painstakingly prepared. As the lights were off (the candlelight was beaming with romance), the food was served, the wine poured, the music playing, and the eye contact established for what was to be a memorable evening, the air conditioning kicked into force and hundreds of flying insects invited themselves to be part of the occasion.

Needless to say, she was allergic to flying insects and refused to ever come over again.

Talk about frustration? This could go down in the annals of history.