A Tale of Self-Centeredness

Under the heading of shit I've only encountered in Kansas...

Long story short, I had made contact with a woman who, after a year of being celibate, wanted to get laid on NYE.  We agreed to meet beforehand, in order we weren't stuck with someone we didn't like the day of.

So she arrived Christmas evening and the sex was halfway decent.  A Christmas miracle!  She appeared to be dateworthy, so she stayed and additional quality sex was had.  Her selfish tendencies came to light during that sex, however.  Before we met, I made a point of sharing how a previous partner's selfishness in the bedroom doomed our relationship to a platonic one.  I very clearly explained what that hot button was for me.  During the time we were together, she pounded the shit out of that button over and over.  Not a good start.

One of the two nights I was getting ready for bed, when she asked if the phone charger next to the bed was mine.  As if it could belong to someone else?  I responded that it was.  Except she decided it was hers, because when I came into the bedroom, her phone was plugged into it, .

While she was here, most of the conversation was her relating drama about her family, the divorce process, and a few other topics.  She was frequently in tears talking about it.  While I'm not unsympathetic, I'll admit that got a bit old.

The thing that wouldn't leave finally departed late Friday morning because she needed to attend a funeral.  She said she'd text me as soon as she knew whether she could come over or if things had gone long.  When I didn't receive a text by 6:30 p.m., I decided she was on her own for dinner.  When one hadn't arrived at 7:30 p.m., I'd pretty much decided that, sans another death or severe bodily trauma, she was getting the heave ho.  At 7:50 p.m., a text finally arrived, saying she was tired and would text me in the morning.  Yeah, thanks for letting me know early enough so that I could adjust my plans...  In my potentially fantasy world, when you say you're going to text someone with plans, you text someone with plans, whether they're your friend or some dipshit you work with.

At 12:50 Saturday morning, I was awoken by knocking on my door.  It was followed by door bell ringing.  That pattern alternated without pause.  Knock knock knock knock, ring ring ring...  It was fucking constant.  At that point, I didn't know who was at my door, and willing them to shut the fuck up wasn't working.  So, as one does when there's a lunatic at their front door, I grabbed something in a large caliber and went downstairs to investigate.  You already know it was her.  Well, I went off on her in the semi-coherent manner one does when one is awoken from a deep sleep.  However, the message that she needed to stay the fuck away from me was crystal clear.

Fortunately, all indications are she did listen to that bit of direction.

In summary, holy fuck, I've never encountered anyone so self-centered and ultimately bereft of courtesy toward others.  Such a shame, because the sex was about the best I've had in the flatlands.

When The Balance Of Power Turns

No, this isn't about D/s or even about sex.  Consider it more of a life lesson on how you treat the candidates you interview for a job.

To keep it brief, back in September, I interviewed for a job North Carolina.  It was a good fit, for a number of reasons I won't go into and I was excited about moving back to the East Coast.  Shocker, I know.  I even had an inside track in the form of a friend whose agency does all the marketing communications for this company.  He fed me all the info he got on the other candidates and how their interviews went, from another friend who worked for the company.  Total lock, right?

Well, the hiring manager didn't think so.  This job was sales management and he thought I was 'too much of a marketing guy.'  Except despite my follow up just outside the time he committed to have a decision to me, the guy was dark.  I actually found out I didn't get the position from my friend.

Fast forward two months and I'm sitting in a global marketing meeting, where one of my colleagues speaks about developing an electric ass scratcher (make believe product the company I interviewed manufactures).  I see an excellent opportunity to partner with an expert on electric ass scratchers, instead of trying to develop our own, because our value proposition is high tech anti itch solutions, of which we have significant market share.  I intended to connect my team with the company in NC, but then I thought, fuck them; they didn't have the decency to provide me with some form of feedback. The vindictive part of me wanted to reach out to rub it in the ass scratcher's face, that being an asshole lost them a fuck ton of revenue and market visibility.  But I'm too professional, burning bridges and all. 

Things changed the next evening, because I finally did receive a rejection email from ass scratcher.

I responded and concluded with this:
Furthermore, during our global marketing meeting, last week, one of the other market managers mentioned development on a ass scratcher unit and the potential need for a higher capacity ass scratching system.  I informed him that there were companies whose sole business was ass scratching management and that he should consider partnering with one, rather than reinventing the wheel internally, particularly because the market position our company enjoys in this application would drive significant revenue for both parties.

Best Regards,

So, back to the moral which is essentially the golden rule, because being an asshole can get you fucked out of millions in revenue.

Thanks For The Laugh

For those who've read a good chunk of my blog, it's understandable that I don't have much reason to be thankful to my borderline ex-wife, beyond being incredibly grateful to have gotten away from her.  However, a friend sent me a link to her latest side venture.  She's become a wedding officiant.  For those who don't know (I didn't), an officiant, according to Wikipedia (yes, I got lazy on this one) is:

Secular officiants include civil celebrants, Humanist Society–appointed officiants, Justices of the Peace, marriage commissioners, notaries, and other persons empowered by law to perform legal marriage ceremonies. 

I'll remind my readers that I was husband number three and that she's gone on to marry number four.

The punchline to this entry can be found in the first sentence of her little bio.

I'll just leave it there.

Satisficing In Your Relationship

If you're in a relationship that's less than a few years old, I want you to take a look at your significant other and ask yourself what attributes he or she possesses that made you partner with them.  Being  honest with yourself, is one of them that he or she is safe?  Is one of the most appealing features of your partner that you know they won't leave you?  If so, are you living a fulfilling a relationship or are you satisficing?

Satisficing is a decision-making strategy that aims for a satisfactory or adequate result, rather than the optimal solution.  In other words, 'so long as he's stable and won't leave me, I'll partner with him.'

Don't get me wrong, security is important in a relationship; after all, none of us would eagerly partner with someone you knew would likely run like hell, when some heavy lifting was required.  But what do we sacrifice for that security?

As usual, I'll share some of my own experiences to illuminate the dynamics of dating for safety.  We'll start with my ex-wife, who I've written about before.  After I ended the marriage, she immediately jumped into the dating pool and coupled with a guy who clearly exhibited safety.  Before going any further, I'll refresh my readers on my wife's attributes that are salient to this topic, which were that she was very attractive and skilled at manipulation.  As a result, she could have had a wide choice of men.  The one she chose was mostly unemployed (he has a graphics business with no website) and demonstrated no indication of a backbone, the times our paths crossed.  My intent isn't to insult him, rather than stating facts.  She was the one in charge and was obviously the hottest piece of ass this guy had ever gotten his hands on.  In summary, this guy wasn't going anywhere; he was eminently safe.  As evidence, they've been together for over ten years, which is longer than any of her previous relationships.

I'd also previously referenced my next example, which is a woman who left me before I could leave her.  She latched the fuck onto the next guy she dated and wound up marrying him.  In her case, because we remained friends for a bit, I am well aware of the sacrifices she made.  Again, it was obvious this woman was the hottest thing he'd ever dated and was obviously not going anywhere.  She would complain to me how the guy was a mess, from the divorce he was going through, and was the stereotypical dull dude.   How uncultured he was and that he was a raging homebody (she was the opposite).  He had four of his own kids, where she had two.  Again, no insult intended, but her resentment for her own children lived just below the surface, yet she signed up for a full boat Brady Bunch?  He was gainfully employed, however. 

The one attribute these men shared was their commitment.  'Til death do us part, even if you're the cause of my imminent demise.' 

This would be all well and fine if one could accurately identify the safe ones.  In my experience, the ones who we perceive as having no better options to be the safest.  Except that's not the case.  I'll speak for men, because I am men.  You give some poor shlub an amazing, gorgeous woman who's a rock star in the sack, and he may very well begin believing he can attract other women out of his league.  Mr. Safety isn't quite as safe as you thought.  Of course, he'll realize that's not the case and come crawling back, but that's another topic.

So, look at your significant other again and ask yourself if you're satisficing.