Monday, May 26, 2008

Lo Siento

I just wanted to send you all a quick apology for the newly censored comments. I still want you to leave comments and I welcome them. Why moderate, then?

Well, I'm just getting sick of seeing a few super hateful, moronic comments sprinkled in with all the others every time I look at my blog. Enough so to delete them. I'm not hiding anything. I'm saving myself (and maybe some of you) the irritation.

Yep. You're right! I do choose to put my life on the internet to share with anyone who wants to read it, and you're right - that does open myself up to criticism. Criticize away! Please, feel free. But do it in your own blog, k? Quit wasting my time.

Continue to leave them, and I'll approve any comment that is not oozing with hatred and condemnation. :)

Tuesday, May 20, 2008

Come Here Often?

Interesting ways people have found my blog...

Some of these inquiries make me feel bad, because what they're searching for isn't actually in here. So let's take a second to answer some of your questions, shall we?

  1. 6 month anniversary email
    • I'd normally start it out with how you felt when you two first met, and end it with how far you've come. Sprinkle in a few good times you've had, and sign it with your pet name. Works every time.
    • p.s. Why are you writing her an email for Christ's sakes? Take her out to dinner or something.
  2. something cute for 6 month anniversary
    • How 'bout a nice little weekend getaway to your hometown? Has he met your family yet?
    • Or.... the scandalous answer would be a bj in a new piece of lingerie. That one never fails.
    • This question depends on what kind of anniversary it is... are you two dating? Have you been married for 6 months? My friend just had her 6 month wedding anniversary and got her husband the game Rock Band. I think it all depends on your level of intimacy/awesomeness.
  3. what a guy wants in a relationship
    • On the surface, it's going to look like he wants guaranteed head and someone to pick him up when he gets too bombed to drive home, but guys are really not as different from girls as we tend to think they are. They want to be loved, taken care of, and appreciated, just like us.
    • This also depends on where he's at in his life. Does he want a RELATIONSHIP? Or a ....relationship...? Think about it.
  4. boyfriend questionnaire
  5. okcupid date
    • Generally, a bad idea. 'Nough said.
  6. the peach random gentle love master (rglm)
    • Grow some cajones.
  7. picking up girls on okcupid
    • See number 5, please.
  8. Kazakhstan
  9. happy two months love text message
    • If (s)he just said "I love you" for the first time, and it was a text message, I wouldn't recommend it goes a day past two months.
    • Crap. I've done that before. Additional piece of wisdom: Don't text when you've been drinking.
  10. eyelid mole images
    • Sorry, couldn't find a good one. But this picture appears for google image searches on eyelid moles, and I thought it was creepy enough to post. (Whatever it is that she's holding hands with, that relationship is doomed for so many reasons. There is a fine line between open-minded and desperate, don't you forget it.)
  11. okcupid personality awards
    • ... are bullshit if you ask me. But I guess no one really wants to think they're greedy.
  12. girls from kazakhstan
    • Really?
  13. when a guy pull away you can move on
    • "Advice is what you ask for when you know the answer but can't accept it." You've got it, sista'. Can, and should.
  14. dating her 6 month anniversary
    • I'm starting to wonder why people are so dang frazzled over the whole 6 month anniversary situation. Would it help if you pretended it was 5 months?
  15. best ways to date
    • Be nice. Shower first. Chew with your mouth closed. Say thank you. And do not, under any circumstances, talk more about your mom/ex-girlfriend than you do about her.
  16. dating my new
    • I wish I knew what the last word was supposed to be. Any ideas?

Sunday, May 18, 2008

The Foxista: A Reunion

I was driving home last night from my friend's house and listening to John Tesh on the radio (cheesy, I know). Just as I was passing the street I used to turn on to get to Starbucks to see the Foxista, he started talking about the effects of drinking coffee on your health. I haven't been to that Starbucks since the last time I talked to him (aka morning after he stayed over, basically) and the thought of going in there hasn't even crossed my mind since.

So it was kind of weird when all of a sudden I hear this random fact about coffee as I'm passing the street he works on, and I got the feeling I should go in there. I figured he didn't work there anymore, but something was calling me to go get a cup of coffee.

So I went in, and lo and behold, he was the only one working. The look of shock on his face was impossible to miss. He kept asking me what was new, and what I'd been up to. I finally told him I wanted some coffee. As he was making it, he kept doing his really intense staring thing, which I called him out on.

I asked what was new with him, and he told me about work and skateboarding, and then walked all the way to the end of the counter and said he'd met a really nice girl, at Starbucks, and that she was sitting over in the corner. He said it in a way that implied that he didn't want her to see me talking to him. Ah. So I told him congratulations, grabbed my Splenda, and traded farewells.

So strange. I almost expected to get a weird text message from him about it. Nothing yet.

Thursday, May 15, 2008

Well-bred, Ill-spoken

I've never gotten over how strange it is to run into someone from what seems like a past life.

A few years ago, while I was still in college, I had met this guy on campus while I was studying in the language lab. I'd noticed him immediately as he entered - we'll call him Model Todd- he was hard to miss. He was especially good-looking, though not my typical "look" (not usually into the blond hair and blue eyes situation), great build, very sharply dressed, and struck up a conversation with me about the professors in the Spanish department. Though initially very handsome, when he spoke something changed. I'm the first to admit that confidence is super sexy, but there was something very socially stunted about the way he talked. It was almost as if his timing was off-kilter. His responses seemed delayed and choppy, and the conversation was generally just very awkward. I figured he was nervous (which is kind of charming in its own right), and when he asked to take me out for dinner the next night I accepted. I like to give people a fair chance, especially after a bold display of cajones.

The next night I drove to Model Todd's house to meet him for dinner. He lived on a cliff overlooking the ocean with an amazing view and a friendly roommate. When I got there (10 minutes late... as always) his roommate said he was getting ready and went to tell him I was there. So I sat waiting for 25 minutes while he "finished his hair." I kid you not - that was the explanation he gave me (lacking apology or even notice of my own late arrival) when he finally emerged from the bathroom with expertly coiffed spikes.

We took off for dinner in my car, because it turned out he didn't have one. He chose a pretty cool new restaurant that had a live jazz band that night and a great martini list. Our chat over dinner was almost identical to the one in the language lab, and it became hard to believe it was just nerves. Over the course of the conversation, he told me that he was born and raised in Connecticut, and moved out to Southern California to pursue his modeling career, which he does part time along with his college classes. I started to realize that the only time he was engaged in our conversation was while he was talking about modeling (as there was nothing else he liked talking about), and any time it was my turn to talk his eyes got more glazed than donuts. I'm sure we've all had one of those conversations that's just one of the people sitting there waiting 'til it's their turn to talk, right?

It got to a point where he would ask me some bland, generic question and visibly space out while I attempted to answer it quickly enough to keep his interest. Eventually, I gave up. The rest of the evening I learned about the diet, sleep schedule, and workout routine of any successful male model, why every guy with nice abs should wear only Armani button-ups, and why it's absolutely essential that I have my own airbrush tanning kit at home. Snore.

We paid (and split the bill, eat your heart out) and left. I was ready to bail as soon as I dropped him off, but he wanted me to see his portfolio. The potential image of this aggressively attractive 20-something guy in underwear was enough to convince me to park and hang out for a bit. And to be honest, the pictures were totally worth it. I left without kissing him goodnight or plans to contact him again, and that feeling was mutual. We didn't speak for years.

Up until, of course! Saturday, when I ran into him at the specialty grocery store down the road from my house. Apparently we've both moved to the same area. This time, he seemed completely different; he was now poised, confident, and smooth. It was hard to believe this was even the same Model Todd I had gone out with years ago. He had no problem making conversation, and seemed so interested in what I had been up to. He told me he'd always really regretted not seeing me again and wanted to hang out and catch up. How could I turn that down?

So Sunday night he came and picked me up (he now has a car... guess that modeling career finally paid off) and took me to the wine bar across the street. Apparently I was a little off about this new and improved version of Model Todd, as he still adores talking about himself. Much of it was review from the last date, and I was strongly reminded why I didn't want to hang out with him again the first time. But I graciously conversed, split the bill again, and went home.

Normal, right?

'Til the past few days, when he's called me quite a few times. I pick up every once in awhile, talk to him for a minute or two, and say I have things to get done and I'll talk to him later. I've politely turned down his requests to hang out. For some reason, he isn't getting the hint.

So I get to work today, and as I'm with my first client of the day I'm told by the receptionist that I have a "visitor." Go ahead. Guess who it was.

So here I am, in the middle of giving someone what's supposed to be a stress-relieving scalp-massage/shampoo, while I have Model Todd sitting on the next shampoo bowl talking to me. Embarrassing. I told him I'd be done in an hour if he wanted to come back, and he didn't even take that hint. He was still sitting a foot away from me, talking, when I finished blowdrying my second client, and I finally had to tell him that I'd call him later. Ugh!

So now I have an entire salon full of girls wanting to know A. WHO that guy was and how I know him, and B. how on EARTH I can be so uninterested in one of the studliest men on the planet.

I don't know where to begin.

Tuesday, May 6, 2008

Booze makes Big Fish out of Bottomfeeders

Many a time I've met a guy when I was out who seemed like a gem; who was really a rock.

I was out on Saturday celebrating an early Cinco de Mayo weekend with my friends, where I met Casper, a 6'6" hottie with an amazing job at Fox. Amazing you ask? We're talking casting director for every major show on their network. Yeah. I know.

So we met, and we talked. And then we talked some more, and then we flirted. And the flirting turned into major flirting, which led to exchanging numbers, which meant yesterday we were texting each other like crazy. Texting turned into a phone call which ended up being three hours, and by the time we hung out tonight we were ten times more stoked on each other than we were when we first locked eyes.

We decided that we'd hang out tonight, the actual night of Cinco de Mayo, and he had me meet him at his apartment. He lives in a big gated apartment community that seems like it was probably nice 20 years ago but is now a little run-down for how expensive it probably is. I parked on the street and called him, knowing only which building he was in, but not the apartment number; not that it would help, since the door to get in was locked on the outside.

He came down to meet me, and was definitely not as supremely sexy as he was the night I met him, but I assured myself that boys are always better when you first meet them, that all I needed was a drink, and that he was excited to put me on the next season of American Idol - minus the embarrassing first rounds of auditions. He was cute enough. I must have liked him for a reason.

So we get in his car on the way to go out, and he's telling me about this girl at work that he was dating for the past few weeks, but they've broken up, and about all the weird things she's been doing and how awkward it is, but that he thinks they might work it out anyway. I tell him, very honestly, that if he wants to talk about his relationship with another girl I'm willing to listen, but only as a friend. If he wants to date me, he needs to leave all of those stories out of the date. And that it's up to him. So he chooses the former, and continues on about the strange dating circumstances with his co-worker.

We get to the bar and we're drinking, and some skeeze-ball comes up and flirts with me, which motivates him to go from regular "friend" guy to complete douchebag within a few seconds and almost gets into a fight with this pathetic 50 year old guy with too big of a smile. I calm him down, we order another drink. He starts getting flirty. He asks if I've ever been on a first date with a guy this tall. I remind him that this ISN'T a date, since he chose the "friends only, so that I can tell you all the details of dating another girl" option just an hour before in the car. He denies the whole conversation.

I have another drink. He continues flirting. I start to flirt back because now I'm drunk. I try to remind him that this isn't a date. Now he insists that it is. He orders me another drink, even though I'm not halfway through the current one.

Eventually we decide to leave, because now we've been talking about The Secret, and he tells me that he has the video and thinks we should go watch it, so we go. We get to his house, climb up on his bed (and I understand this was my bad), and start watching the DVD. I actually want to watch it, while he just wants an excuse to make out. I keep backing away so that I can watch, but he keeps pushing me back down and kissing me.

Eventually I tell him, "hey, I want to watch this," but he pushes me back down into the pillow hard, and pulls me shirt and bra up and in one foul swoop, aggressively enough to actually hurt my skin. I push him off of me hard and sit up. "WHAT THE FUCK. What's wrong with you," as I'm pulling my shirt back down. I jump off the bed and start looking for my purse.

"You fucking tease," he calls me. I'm not responding because I want to go. He calls me a whore, and tells me all he wanted was to fuck me. I find my purse and head quickly for the door.

But he jumps up. 6'6" worth of drunk, irrational guy are now in front of the door, blocking it. His name-calling is now name-screaming, in my face. "You're a fucking whore! You disgusting slut, you're a tease. Fuck you!" He's yelling at me. Now he's crying. Tears are falling off his face onto my foot. His yelling gets more intense and the name-calling gets more ugly.

I'm scared.

I haven't been scared like this by a guy before. A guy isn't supposed to make you feel scared. I take account of my surroundings; I'm in a strange apartment, with a huge guy I really don't know. A guy who's extremely emotionally unstable and now screaming and crying at me. I need to stay calm. I never should have come back to his apartment with him. This was a mistake.

I tell him calmly that he's scaring me, and I need to go. I feel like as long as I bring himback to what is going on, he'll realize his irrationality and let me leave. It doesn't help. It gets worse. He's yelling. He tells me that hates me, and that he wants me to go to hell. That I've teased him, I've broken his heart, and doesn't know how I could do this after what he's been through lately with that "slut" at his work. I keep repeating, "ok, I'm scared. I want to leave. Please let me leave. You're scaring me." I reach for the doorknob and start to pull it open; he slams it closed. He gets right in my face and tells me I'm a fucking bitch, and that I don't deserve him.

I stand there, I'm shaking. I'm wondering if I'm going to make it out of his apartment alive. I'm wondering if he has a record of doing this kind of thing. I'm thinking about how long it takes before they use GPS to figure out where a cellphone is, and if that's how they'll find me. I'm wishing his neighbors could hear me yelling and would come rescue me. I keep saying, "Casper. I'm scared. Please let me go home. You're scaring me. Please let me go. I'm going to go now." Every time I reach for the door, he shoves my hand away. He's now slumped against the door, sitting on the floor, sobbing; every girl fucks him over, and why does he always meet all these whores? All he wanted was a nice girl to settle down with.

After what seems like hours, he stands up. I tell him, over and over, that I need to leave. I'm going to leave. Let me leave please. All of a sudden to steps away from the door and opens it. As I go to walk out of it, I feel his hand on my back and he shoves me hard into the hallway and against the wall. I'm stunned and spin around, trying to push the door open. I'm not being rational but I'm in shock and angry that a man would lay his hands on me like that. He slams it in my face and cusses at me throught he locked door.

I realize what's happened and take off running for the elevator. Now I'm more scared than ever; once a guy has crossed the line of being violent with a girl, there's no telling what he'll do. I'm pushing the elevator call button frantically when I hear his door open. "Delete my number you fucking bitch, don't ever call me again! Fuck you! You fucking slut!"

Finally the elevator comes, and I stand in it, shaking hard. I get to the bottom floor and I run to my car, though he's probably not following me. When I get in, I lock all the doors, and I burst into tears. I bawl my eyes out all the way to my house.

Now I'm sitting here, and I'm writing this because I don't know what else to do. I know tomorrow I'll tell my friends about it and they'll be there for me the way that friends are, but I'm still going to feel empty. I feel empty because part of me thinks I deserved this, for being an idiot and going with him to his apartment when I didn't even know him. I put myself in dangerous situations, and I'm bound to have a dangerous result at some point.

No one deserves to be touched or talked to like that. I know that and I hope you know that. If you, or anyone you know has been through something like that, please seek help. Talk to someone. Let people know. Telling someone might mean that this person doesn't have the chance to act again against someone else.

I know that there are good guys out there. If anyone knows where they are, please clue me in.

Thursday, May 1, 2008

Happy 6 Month Anniversary!

Well, today marks the 6th month since I started this blog, and I'm the type of girl who celebrates these things, so I wanted to give y'all a great big shout out for reading!

To mark this joyous day, I'll tell you the story of Hughes, a very attractive boy who turned out to be more strange than anything else.

It was last year, early March. I lived up north a few hours, but knew I would be moving to Southern California. Since I don't waste any time, I started perusing Craigslist in this area, to meet some new "friends." (You know, the ol' "new to the area, need some fun people to show me around" line.)

It was late at night, and after confirming my posting, I immediately got an email from Hughes; a year younger than me, who works as a professional photographer, who was really funny and sent a really hot picture. That'll work.

So we started exchanging emails, each one longer and more flirtatious. The more we discussed, the more we had in common it seemed: music taste, places we've traveled, prior relationship experiences, favorite movies, etc. I felt giddier every time I read another email. I lost track of time, and realized at 5:30am that it was probably time to go to bed. We exchanged phone numbers and I went to sleep with a huge smile on my face. I woke up for work not exhausted, but excited.

Throughout that first day, we texted each other constantly. The conversations were originally like, "I can't wait 'til you live down here" or "I'm so excited to move," but became, "there's no way I can wait that long, I'm going to come see you," and my asking, "how soon?"

This lasted two weeks. We talked on the phone every night, exchanged picture after picture, and generally fell for each other virtually. He had told me early on that he'd just broken up with a serious girlfriend (ie three weeks before the first night we talked, and by serious I mean they had been living together for a year) which is an obvious red flag, but he insisted that he'd been over it for months before they broke up, and had definitely moved on. I believed it.

We decided on St. Patrick's Day for his visit, and couldn't have been more excited. As we discussed his upcoming visit, our conversations had this underlying sense of, "that's when we're going to start dating." One night, he even told me to count 6 months from that day, September 17th, and write "6 months since I met Hughes" with a heart on my calendar. And I did. We had high hopes.

On the 16th I did my usual nervous/excited girl activities: got my hair and nails done, went tanning, gave myself a facial, cleaned my room top to bottom, and picked out a few potential outfit combinations. I could hardly sleep. I woke up hours before he'd be there, and spent tediously long getting ready. I wanted everything to be perfect! I'd made the mistake of telling all my friends and co-workers about it too; despite that whole "don't jinx it" philosophy. Ay.

So he pulled into my complex's parking lot in his souped-up yellow convertible (yeah, yeah, I know... another red flag. So sue me). As soon as I heard the rumble of his super-charged engine, my heart jumped out of my chest and I ran to the door. And there he was, 6'5", well-dressed, and almost as cute as I'd previously imagined. I ran downstairs and gave him a big hug, though he seemed kind of shy. Oh well, we are meeting for the first time, and he did just finish a 2-hour car ride in a tiny convertible, which is really just not fitting for his height, I thought.

He came up with me so I could get my purse, and we decided to walk around downtown. Already, all the bars were stuffed with drunk people doused in green beer. He still seemed really quiet. We decided it would be the most effective to go back to my house for a few drinks and then go out to the bars, so we wouldn't be ripped off quite as bad for drinks. On the way back we stopped at my work, and he met my co-workers, who seemed to really enjoy embarrassing me by telling him everything I'd told them about him.

When we reached my apartment, he was still really uncomfortable and quiet, now two hours deep into the visit. He seemed to be a bit better than he had been when he arrived, so I crossed my fingers that a few drinks would loosen him up a little. We went into the kitchen to make some drinks, and I pulled out the different kinds of liquor and juice I had so he could pick what he wanted. He chose, and then said, "oh I just remembered, I brought some pictures of my dog to show you, I left them in my car. I'll be right back."

So I stood there in the kitchen, mixing our drinks. A couple minutes later, I heard a really rumbly engine start, but I assured myself I was just being paranoid and refused to go out to look. But my heart was pounding. I knew I wasn't being crazy when out of my kitchen window, I saw his yellow convertible peel out of the driveway and take off for the freeway. I was in complete shock. For a second I reasoned with myself - maybe he needed to pee and was so uncomfortable around me that he wanted to sneak off somewhere. Or maybe he wanted to be sweet and go get me flowers. After a few seconds I came to my senses and realized that the douchebag had just peeled out of my day.

So I did what any normal person would do; I called him. He didn't pick up. I texted him, "what the hell?" He didn't respond. I called again. He'd turned his phone off. I quickly downed the two drinks I had mixed us and started crying. Not because he was the man of my dreams once I had met him (I mean honestly, I wasn't even sure how we were going to get through the day together), but because I had done something so awful that a guy would drive two hours to see me, and immediately turn around and drive back. And LIE about it! Honestly.

So I layed on my freshly-made bed, in my spotless room, wearing my cute green outfit and perfect makeup and manicured nails, and drank and cried 'til I fell asleep. I woke up hours later to some text messages from friends about going out, and out of them I chose Brent, who came and picked me up and we went out and got even more drunk and cabbed it back to his house after too many Irish Carbombs and some drunken, naked making out and rolling around in bed that invariably led to my playing a little flesh flute as it always did.

Anyway, back to the douche in the yellow convertible. I decided with sound resolve not to try to contact him again, but come March 18th, I awoke to a long-winded text message from him, and something to the effect of, "I am so sorry. I don't know why I did that to you. I realized I'm not over my ex, and I like you SO much and it just didn't feel right to be moving on that fast." (LAME.) So I wrote back something about lying and being an asshole about it, and he apologized again, and kept apologizing through text message for the next few days while I ignored them.

And ever since, every couple of months I'll get a random email or text message from him, that says, "I wish I had never left."

This world is full of fuckin' weirdos.


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