I decided to change the title to Zombie Lovin’ because this post is mainly about Ty. And it’s done. Enjoy. Remember to laugh! This one’s funny. I promise.

There are those of you who will remember a double stop on the WWIT? Train and a promise I made to tell you about the two men I was involved with before I met Dane. Well, here goes. Just for the record, this post is meant to be funny and there should be no tears involved, unless, of course, you wish to weep for the fact that my dating life completely sucks.

Okay, to refresh your memory, I moved to Madison at least 13 or 14 years ago with some friends, it sucked, we were constantly broke and there were freaky people living around us (I may not have documented all of these, this will be in my categories (coming soon!) under What Was I Thinking? In a special The Madison Years sub-category).

Just for the record, I drank pretty heavily during this time frame. I was in my twenties and at that point in time, we went to bars almost every night and then to work the next morning. So not all of my choices were extremely intelligent because I had consumed tons and tons of liquor before I made them. That and I was also in what I affectionately refer to the needy years and was under the belief that I was not complete unless I had a boyfriend.

Do you ever have one of those days where you look back at who you were and what your philosophies were and want to slap your past self really, really hard and start screaming “Why are you such an idiot? What were you thinking?” I have those days. I also have those days where I shake my head and think “Oh, Dana, you silly, silly person. What were you thinking?” And laugh, that kind of dismayed, pained laugh. You know the one I mean.

Anyway, here is a brief glance into my romantic life. Roll your eyes and thank God I now confine my “dating” to crushes from afar. The stories have been divided up by guy. So I now introduce you to Ty, the man I was involved with before I moved to Madison.

I love music. I always have. So, is it really any surprise that I’m attracted to musicians? When I met Ty for the first time, it was at a Narcotics Anonymous meeting. I was there with a friend of mine who was video taping the performance of Ty’s band. It was a brief introduction and, quite honestly, I didn’t pay that much attention to him because I was secretly in love with my friend (yes, let’s keep in mind that I have never actually been in love, this was just the deluded “I am in serious like because he’s really sweet and attractive and wonderful and gosh, wouldn’t it be great if we got married because he’s THE ONE” type of love, the type of love that overlooks such glaring obstacles such as a) he’s not interested and b) he’s gay (which seriously derails a romance before it even starts)).

Somehow, during the conversation I had with Ty, that lasted a very short time, I mentioned that I worked for Major’s. I was surprised to see him there a few days later. We had a brief conversation, I asked if he was shopping and he said no, he had come by to see me. My heart did a bit of a tumble, this was not something I was (or ever will be) used to, having a guy tell me that he had sought me out.

I ran into Ty a few weeks later, at a party that a friend was having. We ended up talking and somehow I ended up leaving with him (somehow…yeah, like I was under a magic spell or something. I was a tramp back then) and driving from Minneapolis to Somerset, WI (this is a long way. Especially when you don’t drive and are in a car with two men you don’t really know that well).

Now, I willingly left with him. I knew that if I left with him, we were probably going to have sex. That was my intention at least. However, Ty had different plans. We spent the night talking about music, he showed me what a steel guitar looked like, and played some of his songs for me on the keyboard. He stated, and I quote, “I don’t have sex on the first date. I have too much respect for you.”

Yeah, I did the “Aw” thing in my head as well. I bought it. Silly, silly Dana.

The next morning, there was sex. And it was okay. It was a long time ago so believe me when I tell you I don’t remember his technique or whether or not he made my toes curl when he kissed me. Suddenly, we were a couple (which, honestly, is how all of my relationships seem to work out. We meet. We have sex. We are together. We break up. Where is the courtship?) and things were okay. I had a boyfriend again. You’ll remember that I refer to this time in my life as The Needy Years, where I considered my value based on if I was involved with someone.

Anyway, Ty and I started dating. He introduced me to his parents and his younger sister. He brought me to his family reunion. My mom liked him. He introduced me to all of his friends. He wrote songs about me. He made compilation tapes for me. He had a party and invited me. I was so proud of him, as he set up his instruments with his roommate. I was cool. I was dating a musician! Yay me! Look at him, he’s so cute. My heart swelled with affection.

Then he began to sing.

Ker-plunk went my heart. Oh, my God. He was horrible. I couldn’t believe it. How was it possible? I had read his lyrics, I had heard him play the guitar and the keyboard and he was extremely talented. He just couldn’t sing.

For some people, it’s the fingernails on the chalk board. For me, it’s the screechy off-tune singers that get to me. I know you are sitting there thinking “But Dana, you love karaoke. How can this be a problem for you?” And my answer would be “I’m not dating the karaoke singers.” Beth and I have even talked about how you can take an average middle-of-the-road guy, one we would think was attractive but not necessarily hot, and put him on stage. If he can sing, he’s suddenly transformed into the most gorgeous man in the universe (And we’re not the only women to think so – think of the following quote from Love Actually.

Sam: Girls like musicians, right? Even the really strange ones?
Daniel: Sure. I think even Meatloaf got laid once. I mean, Ringo Starr married a Bond girl!
Sam [looks at him strangely]: Whatever.)

I moved to Madison. I am trying to remember how long we had been together before I moved. I’m pretty sure the plans were to move before I met him but I’m not positive. We’ll assume that is the case. It’s really hard for me to remember everything that happened and in what order this took place. I know that, at one point, Ty and I broke up, shortly after I moved. The songs written about me during this period were not flattering. I think one of them, Dizzy, had a line that went “You can go to a disco bar and fuck whoever you please.”

But we got back together. Around this time, I started working for the aforementioned Fasties. Becky started working for an insurance company and she had made a lot of friends there. We decided to have a party. Ty was invited. He rode up with a friend of ours named Char to spend the entire weekend. Also invited was one Andrew, a co-worker at Fasties. Andrew was a black man, very smooth and attractive, and he would flirt with me constantly. I was committed to Ty and kept my relationship with Andrew on a strictly platonic basis. But I’m not going to lie, I was attracted to him.

I do know that things were starting to wear a little thin with Ty. I was not overly thrilled about the songs he wrote about me when we were apart. I was not pleased that my friends didn’t seem to like him and Becky caught him in her room once and that some of her possessions were missing. This was going to be that last chance for him.

Boy, did he blow it.

One of the guys that Becky worked with at the insurance Agency was named Conan, he was such a sweetheart and we adored him. When Ty came up for the weekend, he offered to show him around and spend some “man time” together. Now, I don’t know if Ty thought he was being macho or where his brain was but apparently Conan asked him how we had met. Ty replied “Oh, I picked her up at a party, took her home and fucked her.” Nice, huh? Keep in mind, I didn’t find this out until later, after the party.

When Char picked up Ty, she asked him to meet her at a popular restaurant in Somerset. Ty lived off the beaten path, a good 20 miles from town. When Char picked him up, she noticed he was getting dropped off and specified at that time that she would not be able to drive him back to his house, she would only be able to drop him back at the restaurant since she had plans for the day following our party. Ty agreed to this.

So party night comes. Andrew showed up and he looked really good. He was wearing a fitted 3 piece suit and a hat, nice shoes and looked really good. I could not help but keep comparing him to my pasty boyfriend who was wearing ripped jeans and a grungy sweatshirt (Every woman loves a sharp dressed man). There’s a bunch of people there, it’s extremely hot (no air conditioning) and I have reached the point where I can’t stand my hair anymore. It was too long and felt like a ten pound weight on my head. I talked Becky into cutting my hair on the balcony. She did so and I went down to my room to take a shower and get rid of the hair clippings.

My room was on the first floor. There were two rooms and a full sized kitchen but we did most of our living on the 2nd floor, where the party was taking place. I did not have a door and actually used a sheet to give myself some privacy. The keg was in the first floor kitchen because the 2nd floor kitchen was much smaller and it would take up too much room. I walk out of the shower and there is Ty, waiting for me.

I recognize the look in his eye and a part of me sighs and thinks “Oh, God, why now? I’m hot, I’m tired, I just took a cold shower to get cooled off and now this idiot wants a piece of me.” But hey, what the heck, maybe this time the sex would be spectacular. Yeah. It wasn’t. The next part may be a little more graphic than you want but I will try my best to be tactful.
Ty manoveurs me so that I am lying on my mattress (too broke to afford a box spring) face down, my head buried into a pillow. Ty is on top of me, the usual name for this position would be doggie style but I am lying flat on the bed. This is what he wants and he seems to be happy so what the heck, right? He is grinding away when I hear voices. It’s Conan and another person, downstairs to fill up the beer pitchers.
Now remember, I didn’t actually have a door. There was nothing there to indicate to Conan that if he moved the sheet, he might be extremely embarrassed. And he did and he was. I could hear him say “Hmm. I wonder what this is for” and then I knew that I had two men in my bedroom. While I couldn’t see Conan’s face, I could almost feel the heat of his embarrassment. Ty, fortunately, had grabbed a blanket and flipped it over us the minute he heard Conan start to move the sheet.

Conan stammered “Oh, God, I’m sorry.” I giggled and said “Don’t worry about it, Conan. It’s okay.” Or something like that. I do not remember how I knew that ticked off Ty but it did. He was extremely annoyed that I had talked to Conan. Apparently I was supposed to lie there and not acknowledge the situation at all.

Conan left, Ty began again. And I was bored. Bored, bored, bored. Which, and granted it’s been a long time, but I thought the object of sex was to be the opposite of boring. But then, he did something and there was a spark of interest and I did the two things I should not have done. I moved. I moaned.

You would have thought I had leapt out of bed and set Ty’s pubic hair on fire for the reaction I got. He was so ticked that I had moved. I didn’t get it. What was the big deal? I remembered thinking “Would it be better for you if I was dead?” Because the position and the no moving or speaking rule made me seriously think he would have liked it better if I was a corpse (Which is where we get the title of my post. When Beth told me that California banned necrophilia, we had a fun conversation about how there was no more lovin’ for the zombies. And then I remembered Ty).

The rest of our wonderful escapade, I was thinking about Andrew and how good he looked in his suit and I thought about how he probably would not disrespect me the way Ty was. And that’s when I knew it was pretty much over between Ty and myself.

Finally, he finished. He went upstairs. I went back to the shower. I eventually found my way upstairs and wondered how much longer of this night did I have to deal with.

The party ended a lot sooner than we had anticipated. Becky and my roommate (can’t remember her fake name so we’ll call her NB which stands for Not Becky) was tired and decided she wanted to go to bed. Her bedroom was on the third floor. There was a vent in the floor next to her bed and so we could hear everything that was said.

NB: Conan. Conan, get up.
C: Wha? (He was drunk and crashed on NB’s bed)
NB: Conan, I’m tired. Go downstairs.
C: Where’s Becky?
NB: Becky’s downstairs.
C: Okay.
NB: Conan, go downstairs. Becky’s looking for you.
C: Becky? Becckkkkyyyy?
B: Conan, I’m downstairs. Come down here.
C: Okay.
NB: No, Conan. You have to go downstairs.
C: I have to go to the bathroom.
NB: You can go to the bathroom downstairs.
C: Why? There’s a bathroom right here.
NB: No! NO! Conan, stop!
B: Conan! Stop right now! No!
C: It’s fine.
NB: Noooooooo!

Suddenly the heavens opened up and there was a deluge in our living room. Conan, extremely drunk as he was, had seen the vent and thought it was a bathroom. He decided to use it. Speaking as one of the people who ended up with splash back, I’m glad he didn’t have to vomit. The party ended pretty soon after that.

The next morning, Char and Ty took off. I was relieved to see him go. Later that afternoon, after Conan left, apologizing for the 50th time, Becky told me about the conversation between Conan and Ty. I was not pleased.

And then Char called. Char was furious. Apparently, when she arrived back in Somerset and brought Ty to the restaurant where she had picked him up, he got mad at her for not bringing her to his house. She calmly explained they had discussed this and that she was on her way to another engagement and could not take the time out of her schedule. He was angry about this, slammed the door as hard as he could and kicked her door, calling her a bitch as he walked away.

That was it. The last two straws. I called Ty immediately. “Hi, baby,” he said to me. I asked him about the conversation with Conan. Oh, it didn’t mean anything. It was a joke. What about Char’s car? Ignore what Char said. She was a bitch and was trying to break us up. I didn’t buy it. I told him we were through and hung up the phone as he was telling me that both Char and I were bitches and we could go to hell.

I never saw him again. I’d say it was about a week after the party that Andrew and I started dating. And that post will be next. I promise. If I don’t kill blogger because I’ve written the end of this story 3 times and each time I’ve gone to save it, I get redirected and lose everything. Now that I decided to do the rest in word, you know there won’t be any more problems.

Previous Comments:
At 11:58 PM, brooksba said…
DM,I’m on the edge of my seat, waiting, waiting. I want more. Thank you for new posts! Yea!Beth
At 9:30 PM, Brian said…
Hey, fun post! I enjoyed reading your story.
At 4:49 AM, brooksba said…
Dana,Great post. I loved it! Ty was a dip. I’m glad you got rid of that jerk. I hope that guy’s name wasn’t really Conan. The image of Conan using a vent as a toilet is one I don’t need. Very strange. Beth
Advertisements