Just Joey

As some of you know, several months ago I went on a little adventure called online dating. Broke as I was, I decided to go the fee-less route and post an ad on Craig's List. This proved to be incredibly entertaining, if not addicting. I entitled my post, "Seeking a man who is under forty but not emotionally retarded." Needless to say, I got a lot of GREAT responses, and by great I mean a bunch of photos of penises. Why, oh why, would you send me a photo of your penis? Just because you want to see my stuff does NOT mean that I want to see yours. Immediate delete.

There were several other things that could show up in an email that would get an immediate delete. Bad spellling. Poor grammar.. Not capitalizing the word i. Any mention of Nascar or of a probation officer. If certain criteria were met, I wrote back and a banter would ensue. Eventually, I went on three dates. One was with a history professor at UCSD who took me to a jazz concert. I hate jazz. Another was with a really, really funny Engineer from India who I couldn't get enough of on the phone but who I was not at all attracted to in person. I liked him so much, though, that I decided that maybe I could become attracted to him and so I asked him out on a second date. He declined. Awesome. My third Craig's Lister was a DA for San Diego county, a really nice guy that I accidentally on purpose lost his phone number because he couldn't make fun of people with me.

Then there's Just Joey. Just Joey emailed me in response to my post asking if we could speak on the phone because he prefers the "intimacy of conversation over writing." I thought, why the hell not, called the guy and spoke with him for over two hours. He was fascinating and had lived what felt like 14 lives in just this lifetime. He was sweet and funny and courteous and intelligent. He had two kids who lived with him full time and was hoping to have more children someday. He asked a lot of questions, said really nice things to me like, "God, you are just so much fun to talk to," and "I've never met a woman like you," and "I live on the beach in Coronado." Whoa, what?

Turns out Just Joey is a millionaire. Yup, a real estate millionaire. I found this out after talking to him almost every day for two weeks. Several weeks after that, I asked him how he got involved in that kind of business (given that he's a helicopter pilot, by day) and he told me when he ran away from home when he was 16 years old, lived on the streets of Queens, and worked as a bookie for the mafia before he joined the navy that he had learned a great deal about business and making money. Um, yeah. Wait, did you say the mafia?

He kept dropping these bombs on me. BOOM, I'm a millionaire, BOOM I'm in the mafia, BOOM, I was a Navy SEAL (Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that one to you. For twelve years, a Navy SEAL.). Every conversation, I would wait to learn something new about him, and not just something sorta interesting like the kind of wine he prefers, but that he was a trapeze artist with Cirque du Soliel before he was recruited by NASA for the space program (Okay, no he wasn't, but I wouldn't have been surprised).

Here's the best part of it all. At some point into our conversation, he sends me his photo. Are you ready for this? Brace yourselves....

















So, this sort of freaked me out. I mean, it appears as though he bends playground equipment in his spare time. But, as my friend Carrie said, "Amber, he could toss you around like a doll in bed." Right-o, Carrie. Point well taken.

He was calling me every night, this Navy SEAL millionaire daddy, and I was intrigued but not convinced. There were a lot of red flags. He drove a Hummer. He told me that his ex-wife would get mad at him for making jokes while she was angry with him. He was afraid to let others affect him. I knew from what he told me about his childhood that he was out to prove that no one would ever, ever hurt him again. He also told me that he believed that everyone was out to get him, even inanimate objects.

Big. Red. Flags. But, what Carrie said, like a doll...

I was excited to meet him, if anything just to see this guy in person. And I figured it would be fun to date a rich guy for a minute or two. Hey, maybe we would fall in love, have a huge, Italian wedding, move to the penthouse suite of some Vegas Casino that his mafia buddies own, and vacation on the Jersey shore. Ya never know.

And then, after many weeks, Just Joey stopped calling. I left him a message. Sent him a text. Left one more message and then left it at that, bummed that I wouldn't have a better story to tell. A friend of mine is convinced that Just Joey is actually Just Steve, some middle-aged tax accountant who lives in his mother's basement and beats the loneliness posing as a millionaire former SEAL. He's probably right.

Except that he called me three months later. Apologized for not being in touch, said that work had "taken him out of the country" for a while and that he would like to get together. What? What does that mean?

Anywho, that's my story of Just Joey. I wish it had a more interesting ending, and I wish I could tell you whether or not he's real. Nothing would surprise me with this guy. Oh, and if your life ever gets boring, post a personal ad on Craig's List and let the fun begin!