The Quest (11 page)

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Authors: Olivia Gracey

BOOK: The Quest
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***

I
’m a crazy kinda of beautiful but not the medicated kind. Straight out of a cotton field, mixed with a shot of tequila and rubbed with coconut oil. (Yeah, I thought that was brilliant too). I’m somewhat spontaneous, love new adventures, road trips, sweet tea with lemon, of course. New York style pizza is a favorite so is chips & salsa. Love Sangria, a good margarita and I’m a big water drinker.

Love to workout, run, and hit a yoga class when I can. I’m a sun worshiper, toes in the sand, cool breeze blowing chick. I’m not a bar-hopping party girl, I prefer a dinner and a movie or cuddle time on the couch to going to a bar. Not a smoker, please don’t respond if you are. It’s a definite deal breaker. I’m a snuggler, a hands on you kind of gal, love deep kisses, walks in the rain and holding hands. I’m a giver, a spoiler by default, and I don’t meet a stranger. Kind always, prayer warrior, and encourager to all I know. Believe in living on the optimistic side of life, not a pessimist.

I’m looking for a man that’s confident, sure, giving, and loving. Not stingy with his time, his body, or his money. No sugar daddies and no hookups please. If you’re a serial dater pass me by. I’m looking for someone honest, sweet, and knows how to use the manners their momma’s taught them. Chivalry is not dead guys.

So if you’re looking for a Lady and you think you’ve got the ability to make me smile on a daily basis email me. You never know what life holds. Don’t be shy. I’m not.

***

I
’m thinking it needs an overhaul. But what else can I say that would attract the man I want? Do I sound too pushy? Too forward? Too confident? Too much information you think? Re-writing my profile was harder than I thought. Everything I had already mentioned was the real me. How else could I explain who I am and who I’m looking for? What could I possibly say that would attract the attention of the man I want, the man I long for, the man that is nothing like my Radley.

              Shit. He pops into my head at the strangest, most oddest times. I swear if I could wipe my memory clean and rid every thought of him I would! Every Thought! Every inch of his being from my mind. Every delicious inch. Every muscle. Every smile, look, touch, or tease. Gone. Wiped clean. Like he was never there. Never there to kiss, caress, or make love to me. No midnight awakenings, no naps, no couch spooning moments. Never ever there! Never! Sigh.

              I stare into nowhere with the memories flooding my mind. Once again I’m lost in the Radley-mind swimming my way back to the surface of my reality. “If I could do that, wipe my memory then he would never have been there to steal my sanity and never have been there to break me. That would have been nice. You know. To never have been broken.

              The vast nowhere of my l
il’
apartment surrounded me in silence and didn’t fight back. It had nothing to say. But if those walls could talk, what a story they would tell. I was kinda glad they couldn’t. I didn’t want the anyone to know that there once was so much drama that had taken place here and I was once a basket case in love with a serial heartbreaker who christened their floors with floods of tears. Especially now since I have my heart cemented back together. It’s hard as a rock and no doubt noticeable that it had ever been broken.

              Back to my profile, I am considering a new approach; a bullet list. Everyone likes bullet lists right? They are to the point and very straight forward, easy to read. Hmm. How does this sound?

Here’s the skinny…

-I’m a fabulous Lady.

-Never meet a stranger

-Love margaritas

-Long walks in the park (in the rain if I’m lucky)

-Believe in good luck, power of prayer

-Smile often, kind always

-Giver, not a taker, fabulous reciprocator

-Gym rat, running fool, workout junkie

-Love being behind the camera not in front

-Keen eye for the beautiful side of life

-Optimist not a pessimist

-Love family, football, and my truck

-Craves pizza, cheese fries and kisses always.

Looking for a man:

-With ambition

-Not stingy with his time, body, or money

-Loves to be spontaneous

-Likes road trips and experiencing new things

-Gentleman that knows how to treat a lady (chivalry is not dead guys)

-Infectious smile and soulful eyes.

-Please no smokers, serial daters, sugar daddies, or hookups.

              Hmm. Really not bad. Could use a little tweaking but I don’t think I sound desperate. I like the bullets most definitely. I think it’s smart and straight to the point. Maybe that’s a good way to approach this. Just make it simple. I double checked for typos and added a few more adjectives I was looking for in a man and hit the save button. The screen quickly rolled a message to me that said appending approval. Now to sit back and wait. Who will be the lucky one to hit my new profile?

              After an hour of waiting I couldn’t help but look the site over again. I was feeling desperate. No one had even clicked on my new profile. All my good work was going to waste. I debated on switching it back to what I previously had. At least I had some action then. I took another look at the photos I had uploaded and decided to add a new one. One that hadn’t been seen. I picked another truck selfie, mainly because I’m good at taking them and the lighting is always perfect, and uploaded it. While awaiting the approval of my new picture, I came to a conclusion; the dating site is still the biggest slush pool of guys I had ever seen. No one jumped out at me that was worthy or warranted of my love and time. I was very disappointed. Where is my Prince charming? Where is he?

              In the short time frame, I have been on this particular site, my profile page has had over thirteen thousands views, 200 picture likes, 98 winks, 448 emails. The profile views baffle me. The picture likes I’m not too concerned about, a lot of those never emailed me. But now some of those emails shocked me. Some of these guys have the audacity to think they really have it going on and they would be doing me a favor by dating me! I’m not very kind when it comes to such egos or players so I thought I’d teach one a very valuable lesson for messing with me. Or at least plant a seed in his mind to make him question it.

              It was late one night I had just finished up a project and I was starved. I was making myself a sandwich when a message came across my phone. I was excited when I read the message and wasted no time replying. The creep, we will call him Mr. P-FOD (Mr. Penis Must Fall Off and Die), sent me a sweet email. He was handsome, very coiffed, sharp dresser in his pics, seemed to have all his ducks lined in a row too. I had seen his profile before so I was quite thrilled to hear from him. We chatted back and forth in emails then eventually exchanged numbers. He said he wanted to call me on the phone, I said no lets text instead. I was busy scarfing down my sandwich and it wasn’t the right time for me to chat verbally. So he agreed reluctantly and we texted. Not long after we started he started with the typical sexual innuendo. Here we go, I thought, another creep. So I cut him off.

              Well, a few nights later he texted me again apologizing for his behavior claiming he was extremely horny that night and he had no excuse for it. I accepted his apology of course and we got into this long discussion about the perverts and the creeps that frequent the site. We spoke about how many I had dealt with in the short time I had signed up and again total guard down not expecting anything crude, lude, or inappropriate. The guy was seriously being apologetic and nice to me. So nice, that thoughts of meeting him in person were popping into my head. But before I had a chance to take another sip of my much needed late night glass of sangria a picture appeared on my phone. Nice. There it was. A big beautiful white penis eye starring right at me through my iPhone. I say beautiful sarcastically. What a creep! And no I didn’t see it coming. Yes, I’m that gullible shut up!

              “Nice right?” he says back in a text.

              I sat there trying to come up with a response but nothing came to mind. “Did you pass out? Haha,” he asks adding
,
“Now it’s your turn!”

              I didn’t yell at him. I didn’t cuss him or my phone. A sharped edge thought came over me and I quickly responded with this:

              A dinger pic: long, skinny, not trimmed, and lopsided. It had bumps and a vein that popped like it had a second eye! Yeah, not that I was really studying the picture but those things were obvious. I seriously could make a collage of all the dinger pictures I’ve received since I started the whole dating quest. It was only fair to share my pics with him. You know, trade.

              My smile was wide but my lips were not parted. My cheeks were stuck in this dimple like state but not happy or relaxed.

              He responded prematurely with, “I knew you’d like it.”

              “Oh yeah, very nice. Ha!” I answered as if he could hear me. My fingers typed a response back without any hesitation wasting no time to put an end to the nonsense with a cat grin still in place on my face.

              “I hope you will have the desire but never again get it up…get a raging urinary infection that causes extreme pain that no medication will cure…get crabs maybe…or pestilent herpes outbreak! Of course there are more horrid conditions I hope you experience too but you understand don’t you? How much I enjoyed your pic? Good luck with whatever comes your way!” And I finished it off with the saying, “Before the night is over, before the day is through, whatever you have done to others, will come back on you!” Kinda like placing a curse on him without actually doing it.

              His response was priceless, one word, “Weird.”

              “Bruhahahahahahaha!

I typed into my phone. I couldn’t resist it. He was such a creep! And I know he will always be a creep and do it again to some other unsuspecting girl but I wanted to plant that seed of doubt to make him question his actions. Yes, I’m this gullible gotta be loved gal over here thinking every nice guy is harmless right? Wrong. Most guys have an agenda. They are on a mission. As my friend tells me they cast their nets out there and see who bites their bait. Whoever responds to them they go after. Geez. Did I mention I suck at this whole online dating quest crap? I’m just a sweet honest little fish in a big, muddy, nasty, sewer infested water with no know how to swim to a clearer stream. I thought I was salmon! Aren’t I supposed to be swimming upstream not down? What the hell? Can someone tell me which direction is upstream? Hell no, I can’t tell! The water is stagnant and there is no current! What do I do? Help me please! Someone help me!

~Signed Guppy.

              I took another look at my profile really thinking my bullet idea would have attracted a decent guy, but even I got bored with it. I think it’s just too much information. So I highlighted all the sassy words and clicked “delete.” Now, I think I’ll keep this as simple as I possibly can… one paragraph maybe… hmm…what could I say that doesn’t make me sound pathetic?

             
I’m not a crazy-ass chick, I have all my teeth, and I know my manners. I’m classy and kind always. If you are willing to make me smile, stare at the stars, or get lost on a spontaneous drive to nowhere in particular, then wink… message…or click “like.” Please don’t waste my time and I promise I won’t waste yours. Muah!

Ps. No hook-ups. I’m a worthy girl.

Chapter Eight

Beautiful

 

 

I
feel like I’ve been punched in the gut. I really suck at this whole dating thing. I have no idea what I’m supposed to do, to feel, how to act, what to say, or not what to say. What do I say when a guy text you, “I just can’t be locked down right now.” Locked down? Seriously? We had only been dating for three weeks, okay three weeks and three days, but who’s counting? Usually, the rule is you know if you’re going to work together as a couple after two weeks, well when we hit the two-week mark, I got nervous. I guess I had misgivings about our future, not that I was looking for a husband, but I liked having company. I liked the chemistry we had together. The raw emotion when we made out was very nice too.

              I really liked him. Wait. Wait. Wait. Who am I kidding? Let’s be honest here. No, I didn’t. There were things I couldn’t look past. Things I didn’t like about him. Would we have been good together? I don’t know. I think the bottom line was I didn’t like to be rejected. Who likes rejection and putting yourself out there? It was difficult for me to break the threshold and now I’m left with all these mucky not good enough feelings I never asked for in the first place. What was I thinking? I can’t do this. I get too attached. I go into a relationship wanting something more than I know I’ll receive. Why is that? Is that a mental thing with me to always hope for the best? Or is that the law of human nature to look at every aspect of a relationship as a possibility? I’m confused. I’m sad. I thought we were good for one another. Was I wrong to think like this? Maybe.

              There were things I didn’t know about him. You can’t really learn everything about a man in three weeks and three days. I admit I had seen a lot, learned a lot, many good qualities, but many others I didn’t care for. For starters…I love all creatures. This man was a beast when it came to them not a gentle giant. He hunts, he fishes (I don’t really mind the fishing), I know typical guy right? He owns two dogs, one of which he major favors, meaning he doesn’t treat all his animals the same. I’ve watched his behavior and just feel sorry for the other one.

              But then there’s this edge. This redneck, rough guy edge. And there’s this feminine side. This flighty, sassy walking, prissy side. Can you say prance? Yes, he prances! And this laugh. A laugh that makes my skin crawl! I really thought this was no big deal but now that he’s dumped me, I’m adding it to the list as a biggie. He’s tall. I like the tall, but he’s not muscular. Oh, he could be; he says he used to be, but now he’s not. I’m assuming he’s too busy to take care of himself. Was he selfish? No, not really. He was generous, even buying me gifts and surprising me with them. Crazy expensive gifts. Things I would never buy or wish to buy. Weird stuff.

              Was he sexy? Oh yeah! He had major swagger and was smooth with his actions. He was quick and aggressive, controlling and confident. He moved like none other when he moved over me. He could toss me like a rag doll and he loved all my flaws. All of them! Even the flaws no one could love like my big fatty thighs. He would grab them by the handfuls hollering, “Ooh, I love those, my favorite part!” Gross! Then he would grab my butt cheeks chanting the same things. I did a lot of running, but dimples in my cheeks were there regardless of the miles I have trekked over the years. They were staples on my booty that just weren’t going anywhere, and he admired them. So, I admired him for admiring them. He got kudos for that.

              He also pointed out other body parts he admired every time we were together which made me enjoy being around him. What girl doesn’t like to be admired? I ate it up. Craved it actually and craved his touch. Looking back I think my favorite thing was getting our legs intertwined when we sat on the couch to watch TV. It just felt good just to touch, hold, and snuggle someone so easy. We naturally gravitated toward one another when we were together. It was nice.

              But my favorite part, my favorite part of him that rang sweetly within my ears was his voice. It was smooth, ballsy, deep, and manly. It melted me when he spoke. Most of the time I would get caught up in the pitch or the tone and not hear a word he said. “What was that? Did you say something?” I loved his voice! It gave me chills from head to toe. Even at those times he was being blunt and straightforward saying things he needed to say that I did not necessarily want to hear, he melted me.

              Where was I? Oh yeah. Things I didn’t like about him. See what I mean? Hmm. Did I mention I suck at this? I really hate this whole dating thing. I do love the meet and greet of new men, there were times that was really exciting, but I hated the repeated quest to get to know someone and learning about all their weird quirks. And with Monte, I enjoyed a lot of our times together. I really didn’t expect the railroading after three weeks and three days. I thought things were going well. Did I mention I really liked him? Or at least there were times I thought I really did. Now, not sure what I think.

              I woke up this morning and the thoughts about what was missing in my life hit me full force right smack in the face! I needed a kiss; not a sloppy kiss; not a peck kiss with closed lips you know that kind, tight mouth, no tongue, and dry. No, I needed a meaningful fill up my lungs, curl my toes, and tell me what your desires with your tongue are kind of kiss. And I needed it badly. Why out of the blue was I needing such a thing? Well, I awoke with this craving. Kinda like a brownie fudge sundae craving, except without the nuts, that had the pit of my stomach aching. I realized what was missing was that connection, that feeling, that want, that hunger. I was missing the desire, the urge, the tingling feeling that stands the hair up on the back of my neck along with the butterflies that danced in chaos begging to be freed to fly into the midnight sky. I’m a very passionate person and a deep passionate kiss is vital and healthy to my well-being. It is vital to my surviving the lonelies. Now that I realize I was without it, it scared the hell out of me.

              I awoke feeling quite philosophical about my life too and where I stood in it. My thirty something years were upon me and without question, I was not where I thought I’d be at this time. I was not happily married to the hunk of my dreams, I was not a wife nor a mother, nor was I even close to becoming one in the months ahead. I had no prospects of even someone worthy enough in my life to help me fulfill those roles. Yes, I was close before, and yes I say from time to time I don’t ever want to go through all the drama associated with getting married again. But the hard fact is, I deserved to be someone’s forever bride. And as hard as I may try to be hard-hearted and cold about it, I still longed for it. I still believe there’s that perfect someone out there for me, there just has to be.

              I was trying to sit still, allowing my thoughts to run rampant within my mind and it wasn’t easy to do. No stopping the pain of the reality to how I truly felt about myself. I allowed the critique to expose my worst of worst within me, get it all out, truth bearing and brutal. We can’t see ourselves. Sometimes that’s a good thing, sometimes it’s not. Right now I was wishing I had noticed it before. I was wishing I didn’t have all these things my judgmental side of myself was so brutally pointing out. But she was right. I needed to face the demons within me that wasn’t allowing me to move forward in my life. The ones that built that damn wall. The ones that have told me I wasn’t worthy of being loved and have caused me to embark on this journey to be forever alone. I knew I didn’t want that, they did. I needed to rid my heart and head of them, so I let her rant.

              For hours my inner being ranted, scolded, recanted every date I had had. She pointed out the good in some, the good I couldn’t see for my blindness, and then pointed out the bad that I allowed. She reminded me of all the moments ‘he’ entered my mind and how I compared him to every man I had met since him. That shook me. I didn’t realize I was doing that. But she was right. Looking back I can remember that. I did. I compared every man to Radley. OMG!

              The very thought he had such control over me brought tears to my eyes. I realized poor Ed never had a chance. The life I had with Ed I always felt should have been my life with Radley. I took my frustration out on him and sabotaged our relationship for it. A blessing in disguise it was that I had miscarried. Did I just say that? Yes, but poor Ed’s life would have been ruined with me. I could have never been the wife he deserved. Nor the wife that should have loved him the way a wife should love her husband. My heart just wasn’t in it.

              Then the countless dates I had been on, crazy and otherwise, I knew were doomed from the start too. I could now see clearly Radley’s lips were always on my mind when those guys kissed me good night. They didn’t stand a chance with me either. In my heart, they just couldn’t compete. He was my Lion hidden in the jungle of my heart. Whenever anyone came too close, and I thought they might be a perfect fit for me, he would devour them. Leaving me to doubt the relationship. There was never any real competition when it came to him. In my lovesick mind, Radley was still the perfect man for me, even with all the misgivings, the heartaches, the abandonment, the brutal honesty, or the way he chose to love me, he was still the one I longed for. Upon awaking this morning when I recanted the type of kiss I was needing in my life, it was his kiss I realized I was missing. His lips. His breath. His tongue entangled with mine. The critique in me was right. But what can I say? He was my heart. My life. My everything. Now I needed to face the reality that he was just a memory. If it was possible to rid him there, well then I needed to. But I knew that wasn’t possible.

              I’ve been alone with my thoughts before, on the floor, on the beach, on work assignments. Those times were not always the best of times. The outcome was still the same, though. I’m not a good listener when it comes to my own advice. Oh, I can dish it out to others, tell them straight, encourage them to make changes, but I resist when it comes to my own person. Why is that?

              The critique within me explained it quite simply. You can’t see yourself. Then she began her quest of re-building my psyche. She knew the woman within me was somehow, somewhat broken still, and she felt it was time to remove the duct tape and make a more permanent fix. A fix that didn’t peel or that would be noticeable if times bore another heartache. Most importantly, a fix like I wouldn’t know I was ever broken in the first place. That I wondered if it was even possible to be like new again. So with it, I welcomed all she had to say to me.

              She began promptly by pointing out my accomplishments, the things I was most proud of in myself for achieving, like my keen eye for my photography, and the photography jobs I had landed over the years. How I built my brand, and the reputation I had earned rightfully. I agreed with her. Those were things that took me years to master and I was proud of myself for having a clear understanding of the mechanics of a camera, as well as having the knack of the art to achieve a sought after job in the field of photography. The competition in the field of photography was fierce. I was highly recommended and never went without exciting adventurous work.

              She pointed out the years of the self-discipline I had adhered to. My years of taking great care of the body that was born to me. How appraising she was about my many hours spent running and in the gym. How heart-healthy I must be. She never scolded me for my splurges on cheese fries smothered in salt and ranch sauce. She never scolded me for midnight pizzas or margaritas. She made it clear that treating myself was a must to muster the daily task in my life. Moderation she reminded, everything in moderation. Ya, ya, ya, I already knew that I reminded her.

              She spoke of how far I had come emotionally. How I was able to overcome obstacles and march forward with my pursuit of happiness. She was beyond amazed that I was able to get off my beautiful, beckoning hardwood floor. “A broken woman is not broken through fault of her own, but by the hands of a man, who never took the time to learn to love her for who she truly was.” And she was right. As much as I had blamed myself, deep down I knew it wasn’t my fault. Just as I knew I couldn’t have avoided the train wreck either.

              My strength: she praised. My perseverance: she encouraged. My grit: she admired.

              I was shocked when she spoke of the woman that I had always wanted to return to and said she had already arrived within me. What did she mean? I was far from being the woman I knew I once was. I was tainted, damaged goods and unworthy. She ignored my unraveling and revealed a secret that reached deep within my soul that took the breath out of me. A secret I never for once believed no matter who said so. The art of not being able to see yourself rings twofold. But with a clear thought and without hesitation, she wasted no time whispering, “You’re beautiful.”

              Tears welled up in my eyes. I didn’t agree with her. I never felt beautiful in my life even as a child. Deep inside I had always felt homely and mis-fitted. I had never heard myself say, “wow, she’s beautiful,” when I looked in the mirror. I always found fault me. Always. So I argued and disagreed with her again reminding her of my many faults too as she placed before me my mirror of truth. “You can’t see yourself remember,” she scolded. “For once look at yourself through someone else’s eyes.”

              “Whose?” I asked innocently. There were no other eyes I could look through. It was just a sad fact of the matter for me. Of course, I was okay with it, I mean, not everyone can be beautiful. If we all looked the same this world wouldn’t be the same. I was my own crazy kind of beautiful. I knew this. I was okay with it too. I took great pride in my kind of crazy, my kind of beautiful but of course not everyone could be like me either.

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