Jordan – Survived by Tara, but would have been easier to survive if she had Bacon

WHO: Jordan

WHAT: Real Life. He used to work with my sister at a stupidly yummy restaurant.

WHEN: Off and on 2013

WHERE: East Bay

WHY: His job involved food. As you all know, I love to eat. He was intense, funny, smart, and my sister liked him. He was not tall and had a girlfriend. I am aware of how this sounds. However, we started off as friends. Grabbed food every once in awhile, saw a show, all very plutonic. One night it went further and I put the kibosh on it. I told him if he wanted to “date” me, he needed to be single. Like really single. I was moving to North Carolina the next month and wasn’t about to get involved in his drama. I said goodbye, packed my car, and headed East.

THE STORY
About two months later I get a phone call from him.

Jordan: “Man, I miss you. You’re all I think about. Things just don’t seem the same without you around.”
Me: “Don’t want to hear any of this unless you’ve figured out your shit with the lady.”
Jordan: “That’s why I’m calling. We broke it off. Turns out she’s been sleeping with a girl and has decided she’s a lesbian. We’re done. I want to come see you.”
Me: “Ouch. Well, I live in North Carolina. So unless you want to come visit, then that’s not happening.”
Him: “When could I come?”
Me: “This is my schedule. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

We hang up, and I immediately get a call from my sister.

Sister: “TARA. YOU WILL NEVER BELIEVE THE STORY I HAVE FOR YOU! OH MY GOD!”
Me: “Oh really?”
Sister: “JORDAN’S GIRLFRIEND IS A LESBIAN AND HAS BEEN CHEATING ON HIM FOR LIKE MONTHS WITH A GIRL! THEY ARE BREAKING UP! AGHHHH! If only you hadn’t moved, you guys could like totally date. Talk about terrible timing.”
Me, playing dumb because NO ONE knew we were “hanging out”: “Yeah, uh, that’s a bummer.”

Thirty  minutes later I get an email from Jordan. He’s booked a flight to North Carolina and will be here in a week. Cue internal screaming. I had been dating on OKCupid and had had ZERO luck. (Please read about the Accountant or Cobra for proof.) Having a few days with Jordan, someone I actually liked, was going to be new territory.

I picked him up from the airport and long story short, we didn’t leave my house for 3 days. He told me all the things girls want to hear and I ignored the fact that he had JUST broken up with his girlfriend. We made plans to keep things casual and he said he would come back and visit again. So on this went for about 7 months: taking turns, visiting, never leaving rooms, cooking and eating. It was lovely.

By now Sister knew we were “visiting” each other. She loved that Jordan was pushing for me to move home, and we were on the verge of getting serious. I lived 3,000 miles away. I missed my family, my friends, and moving back West seemed like a great idea.

He met me in North Carolina in December, and we drove across the country together.

Sounds great, right? Well, in hindsight, the following occurrences should have been red flags:

1. I picked him up in some small ass snowy town at a Casino where he left me at the bar to drink while he played poker for 3 hours.
2. His parents refused to remember my name.
3. He didn’t want to stop at any of the fun in Middle America, largest ball of yarn or biggest piece of pie kinda places.
4. He spent Christmas with my family and not a soul liked him. My mom reused my ex-boyfriend Steve’s stocking, placing a piece of paper over Steve’s name she had quickly written Jordan on.

He did, however, get me a membership to a Bacon of the Month Club.

I had been planning on staying with my sister while I looked for a job and a home. But Jordan was greatly opposed to this. He was adamant that I stayed with him.

Me: “Jordan. This is a terrible idea. We have never spent more than 72 hours together and you want me to move in with you? Nope, staying with sister.”
Him: “Tara. I want you to be around, and I want this to work. I see babies and marriage and a future and I don’t want to waste time not being around each other.”
Me: “This is an awful idea.”
Him: “It’s not, it’s perfect. I love you.” (As I’m writing this, I am kicking 2013 Tara in the ass for believing this lame schpeel.)

So I move in with him temporarily. He’s working lots, I’m looking for jobs lots, and we don’t see each other often. New Year’s eve rolls up and he’s got to work. We make plans to meet up after the restaurant closes around 1am. I head over to hang with my bestie Kelly and wait for Jordan to get off of work.

12am. Text message from Jordan – Happy New years! I’ll call you when I get off! Love you!

12:30am. I’m exhausted, so I head home to wait for Jordan.

1am. Nothing.

2am. Nothing. I text him: Hey! wondering what the plan is. Let me know!

2:30. Nothing.

3am. Nothing. I text him: Okay, going to bed. I call him too, leave the same message.

I wake up around 7am roll over and the bed is still empty. I check my phone. Nothing.

7:04am. I text him: J, where the hell are you? Are you alive? Everything okay?

8am. Nothing.

9am. Nothing, and I’m totally freaking out. What if he’s lying on the side of the road somewhere? WHERE THE FUCK IS HE?! I’m pacing around the house, cleaning and organizing, getting madder by the second.

10:30am. I text him: I JUST WANT TO KNOW THAT YOU ARE ALIVE.

11am. Text from him: On my way home.

I wait outside for him, sitting on the stoop. Marinating in my madness. His car rolls up, and he stumbles out. Pants inside out, tie askew, and looking like a hot fucking mess.

Me: “Holy shit Jordan, where have you been?!”
Him: “Things just got kinda crazy and we started drinking and then bar hopped and then you know, it was New Years.”
Me: “I couldn’t care less where you were. I was just up all night, freaking out since we had plans, and you didn’t get back to me. I just wanted to know you were alive. I am livid. NO ONE deserves to stay up all night freaking out over their “boyfriend.” Also, have the common courtesy to at least call me and say, “Plans changed, sorry, won’t be able to hang out.” That’s all you had to do.”
Him, after some silence: “Can we just talk about this later? I’m in no mood for a lecture right now.”
Me: “A FUCKING LECTURE?! Oh hell no. We are talking about this now. You say you love me, but this isn’t the way someone who loves someone treats them. Also, where did you sleep?”
Him: “It just got late, sorry.”
Me: “Where did you sleep, Jordan?”
Him: “I said sorry. Just drop it.”
Me: “I’m serious, J. Where did you sleep?”

Silence. Doesn’t even make eye contact with me.

Me: “WHERE DID YOU SLEEP?”
Him: “On a couch. It’s not that big of a deal. It’s not like you and I are serious or anything.”
Me: “YOU ASKED ME TO MOVE IN WITH YOU! I’ve got keys and you want me to have your babies! I call that pretty serious.”
Him: “Whatever, I’m not dealing with this. You are totally blowing this out of proportion.”
Me: “Well I’m grabbing my stuff and leaving. Fuck you. MAIL ME MY GOD DAMN BACON, FUCKER.”

I later found out that he had been “dating” a girl who paints her eyebrows on WHILE I LIVED WITH HIM. I sure know how to pick them. Guh.

Also, I never got my bacon.

Cobra – Survived by Tara

WHO: Hipster Screen Printer

WHAT: OKCupid date

WHEN: Spring, 2013

WHERE: Bowling Alley near Charlotte, NC

WHY: Well obviously meeting someone in real life didn’t work, so why not give OKC another go? Screen Printer and I messaged a few times and he seemed cool: motorcycle rider, worked for a company that my bosses used, so in some small round-about world we could have known each other. (We laughed over him having to print 1000 baby onesies with “Poop Factory” on them.) Plus, he looked a little like a young Bob Dylan and Brad Pitt in his pictures.

The date:
We meet at the bowling alley and he’s short. Now, normally this isn’t a deal breaker, but he had said in more than one email that he was 5’11″. In the flesh, he was maybe a generous 5’9″. I went in for a hug and was overcome with the smell of dying old people in hospitals. He smelled bad. Not I-haven’t-showered bad, but I’ve-been-rolling-around-with-corpses bad. We head to the register and sign up for a lane. The High School kid helping us asks for our names.

Me: “Tara the amazing! Or just Tara. Whatever fits. And this is my friend, Screen Printer!”
Screen Printer: “That’s not my name. My real name in Cobra.”
Me: “Like the snake?”
Him: “Yeah. That’s my name.”
Kid: “Uhhh, So Tara and Cobra?”
Me: “I guess so?” We grab our shoes and move to our lane.
Me: “So why Cobra? Were you bit by a snake? Do you have an awesome scar? Do you have a sweet snake tattoo? Did you slither around when you were a baby instead of crawling?”
Cobra: “No.”
Me: “Oh. So why the nickname?”
Cobra: “It’s not a nickname. It’s my real name. C. O. B. R. A.”

I’m obviously not willing to drop it.

Me: “So like, it’s legally your name?”
Cobra. “No.”
Me: “So then what’s your real name?”
Cobra: *silence*
Me: ?
Cobra: “Cobra..”

Changing the subject, I start doing what I do best: small talk. favorite food (food), favorite animal (all of the them), favorite music (everything). It’s been an hour and I’ve exhausted everything that I can think of to talk about. Also, I’m weirded out that I’ve had to ask a few questions over and over again. He just stares at me in silence sometimes and I repeat myself until I get an answer.  Finally I ask if he has any hobbies.

Cobra: “Yeah, I draw stuff.”
Me: “ART! Awesome, so like what’s your medium? Tempra? Oil, Water colors?”
Cobra: “I’ll just show you.” He hands me his phone. “Start at the bottom and scroll up.”

The first is a beautiful painting of a brunette sitting in a chair. She’s got a smile on her face, she’s wearing jeans and a tank top, and seems content.

Next picture. She’s not so smiley. She’s slumped in the chair, her shirt dirty and she looks disheveled.

Next painting, she doesn’t have a arm. In the place of her arm is the wing of an eagle.

Next, she’s missing a leg. In it’s place is a horse leg.

I keep scrolling and there is always the torso of a girl, but she keeps having her limbs replaced by animals. Finally the last painting has the head of a bear, eagle wing, horse hoof, claw for a hand and it’s holding a gun and pointing at itself. The bear has blood down its face and the whole fucking thing is creepy. I hand him the phone back.

Me: “Wow. You’re, uh, real talented.”
Cobra: “I just like painting things I know, you know?”
Me: “Yeah. Um, I have to get going. I need to feed my bosses child. I left him alone and it’s getting late.”

Cobra: “What? Oh, I’ll walk you out. I just want to say that I’m just really inspired by you. This whole night, even though I’m deaf in my left ear, but from what I could hear, you, like, REALLY make me want to paint you. I could totally see your body but with the head of a fox. Yeah, or a buck, or something fierce. Yeah, holding  a 9mm. Yeah. Could I paint you?”

MOTHER FUCKING SNAKES ON A PLANE would have been better than that date.