queen of the crazies, part 2

As you can imagine, I was shocked and quite frankly, scared.

I immediately text The Ex to tell him and ask him why she would do that and what to do. Here is the background that I was given. (If you hate detail, skip it.)

He met her at a party through some friends sometime in mid-September, and very intoxicatedly listened to her sob stories and made out with her a bit. The week that followed consisted mostly of her following him around everywhere he went, and him not wanting to be an asshole so allowing this to go on (I never said he wasn't a pushover). Eventually he fessed up and told her he didn't feel that way about her.

That evening, as they hung out at one of their friend's houses drinking, she sobbed through self-harming threats and locked herself in the bathroom with a butcher knife she found in the kitchen. With everyone panicking, he finally broke in through the window and found she had been making small, deep cuts in her thigh. Whether or not they were in the shape of his name is still in question.

This behavior continued for a week or so before the whole group of friends unanimously decided she was not ever to be invited to any social function ever again, and she eventually left them alone for the most part, but the suicide-threatening phone calls at 3am didn't cease on his end. He refused to talk to her besides the times she swore she was sitting there with a knife. After awhile, he refused to talk to her, period. So, the phone calls stopped.

'Til one day, a couple weeks later, when he got a phone call from Crazimort (oh! I promised an explanation of her name. All of the girls in his social group were very much into Harry Potter at the time, and after saying 'she who must not be named' every time they referred to her, they came up with something more efficient.) who was sitting outside his front door. Did I mention she lived 45 minutes away? She swore up and down that she was "all better" and holding two bottles of expensive Pinot (I know, never a good excuse, but we learn from our mistakes) pretty much insisted that she come in and "talk."

As I'm sure you have guessed, talking led to drinking, and drinking led to blacking out (worsened by the fact that she hardly drank any at all but poured it very generously for him), drinking led to touching, and touching led to, as he surmised the next morning as he put the pieces together, sex. (If you're not humming Portions For Foxes at this point, something is wrong.) When I say pieces, I mean waking up naked in a bed with a girl (also naked) who's completely obsessed with you, and as you eye the floor frantically for a condom wrapper said girl telling you that you didn't use one, and now she is "worried." And she tells you she'll take a morning after pill. (Boys: If this ever happens, watch her swallow it.)

Five days (I kid you not) go by before she calls him in a panic because she is pregnant. No, really! I had no idea that there were pregnancy tests that could tell you that soon! Ugh. So being a young, naive, terrified 19 year old boy he believes it. As this horror unfolds, he begins to question her, asking if he can go to doctors visits with her or see some paperwork, which she aggressively denies and produces some papers clearly printed off the Planned Parenthood website, respectively.

Which brings us (almost) up to speed, when I met her on Halloween (a month and a half after their first meeting) as she professed her "pregnancy" as loudly as her need for a cigarette. So fast forward to when the Ex and I start talking, and he is telling me this and I'm trying to process it and figure out what to do about the 16 missed calls.

I listen to the voicemail, in which she very sweetly says, "hey it's me! Just calling to say hi. Oh, also I have a question for you. Can you call me back when you get a chance? Thanks!"

So I, fearfully if we're going to be honest here, IMed her instead. She starts unloading her version of reality, fit for a TV movie, where she thought that she and I were destined to become best friends, but now I've betrayed her by liking the guy who has impregnated-and-then-abandoned her, and now we'll never have that chance. Then she's telling me how she's very much in love with him and that he's in love with her too, but he's using me to try to make her jealous; that they have some "issues" to work out but that they're going to be getting back together, no doubt about it. She explains that the pregnancy was on purpose, because they want to start having children together already. Then she transitions into a description of how awful a guy he is and how he's out to lie, cheat and steal (and impregnate, I guess), and how he's plotting to do that to me too. She tells me how needy he is, and that's why she broke up with him. She ends it with a grotesque description of the abortion she's going to get to terminate the fetus he "helped" to create. In short, she goes through every nutcase story in the book, though none of them matched up. Unfalteringly, I let her know that I appreciate her concern but I will figure things out for myself, and proceed to block her screen name. (And also the 5 more she uses to IM me after said blockage.)

He calls me later, and tells me that although he isn't 100% (or even 10%) sure that she was really pregnant, he wanted to do the "right thing" so he met up with her at a coffee shop to give her the $400 it cost for her (fake) abortion that she had supposedly had only minutes prior. He reasoned that at least this way, it was off of his hands and we could be rid of her for good.

Or could we?

A Lesson in Catastrophe

Sometimes relationships end in total disaster. And I'm not one to stereotype beyond reason, but there are some common mistakes that some of you make in relationships.... particularly girls.

I know, I know... I'm a girl. But that doesn't mean I don't feel like some of our population is giving a whole lot of us a very bad reputation. I'm referring, of course, to the "crazy girl."

You know the one; in the beginning she seems like a cool chick to hang out with. You start to feel a little weird when she starts showing up at your work all the time, but write it off as friendly, until the day you realize she figured out your voicemail password and has been checking your messages. Before you know it, you've got a "crazy girl" on your hands. I think we've all known one of 'em. (More on the "crazy girl" I've encountered later.)

Before I get into details, you'll need the background: On St. Patrick's Day, I went out one time with this guy Coors from OKCupid. It was fun and all, but not noteworthy or second date worthy. Just wasn't really any chemistry. It's important that you note the second comment on that post. (And also the three consecutive, yet different comments on this one.)

The comments were posted over two months after that one unmemorable time we hung out, and I hadn't talked to Coors since. But curiosity got the best of me, and I had to ask what on earth he'd done to this girl to cause so much resentment, so I IMed him. Initially, he wasn't sure who the girl was. He came to the conclusion that it was a girl he'd been seeing and had hung out with a few times, and was (as far as he knew) getting along just fine with her. He told me about the few dates they had in detail (and trust me, I asked every question I could think of), and neither of us could figure out what she was so pissed off about. He said he wasn't going to tell her he'd seen the comments, since he knew she'd laugh it off or have an excuse anyway.

Sure enough, about a week later she sent me an email apologizing for being "dumb" and explaining that she was joking. We exchanged a few emails about what had brought them about, and when she told me that he couldn't "communicate" and she wanted to talk about what they were and if they were in a relationship (eek, after hanging out a few times?) I suggested she just relax and enjoy where it was going instead of over-analyzing it. She wrote back a few emails that I didn't respond to, one of which being something along the lines of, "I hear you keep texting and IMing him, lay off my boyfriend." Funny, since I'd IMed him only that once. I shrugged it off and forgot all about it.

A few months went by, and their messy interaction was the farthest thing from my mind. Then a few weeks ago, as I was checking my email, a G-Chat window appeared from our leading lady. In a complete panic, she begged me to IM him and ask him to talk to her, because apparently they'd gotten in an argument and he had blocked her on Instant Messenger. (Pretty immature, but the guy has the right to talk to, or not talk to, whoever he wants.) I refused of course. I like to think I'm far more reasonable than to get involved in some crazy girl's dilemmas.

She gave me a frantic recap of their fight, and told me how she was so in love with him but he was totally unable to talk about his feelings and communicate with her. So I started asking her what it was about him that she DID like, and she couldn't really pinpoint anything other than the fact that he was the first serious relationship she'd been in for awhile and that she'd slept with him within a week of meeting him. Fabulous. Although I refused to get involved in the chaos between the two of them, I gave her plenty of really tough love. Hey, the girl was talking to me because I write about dating advice. Why not give her what she came here for?

She pleaded with me to talk to him on her behalf, and I finally told her I had to go. I said I'd like to write about the conversation we had, because I think that it's a terrific example of mistakes that girls commonly make, ie coming on WAY WAY too strong.
(Ever heard the soap analogy? The harder you squeeze, the quicker it'll fly right out of your hand.) She panicked and begged me not to.

When I check my email that night, I had the following email from her:
hey go ahead and write the blog..u can even use our names if you would like. he ended up texting me and telling me how hott i was and that he was sorry then i was like ok well can we talk then he says no go fuck yourself. so im done with him and i have a date with another guy tommorow night.


Wow. Really? Thats impressive. So one minute you're obsessively in love with him, then you're calm and want to discuss things, then he tells you to go fuck yourself for no apparent reason at all (totally out of the blue, right?), and now you have a date lined up. How can anyone keep up with that rollercoaster?

Hey girlie,

Just wanted to thank you for taking the time to chat. I ended things with (Coors). I did realize that he was not the guy I wanted to be with.. it was more of the fact that I really liked being with SOMEONE because of the comfort level. It is weird because we ended on a bad note but I am not sad or upset or anything. Maybe just a little bummed which is normal after ANY break up. I actually went out on an amazing date with an amazing guy that i went on a date with about a month ago...so we will see if anything comes from that but I am extremely attracted to him....as for (Coors) ..not so much! Anyways just wanted to fill you in and say thank you!

- Kristen

Wait. You're telling me you're now (less than 24 hours later) totally at peace with the situation, and now you've met a new guy to latch onto? Not only that, but you went on a date with him a month ago (WHILE you were in a relationship that you were desperate to make very serious)? And now you're trying to tell me you weren't attracted to Coors? Unbelievable.

Do you see what I mean? I can't say every girl is like this. I can't even say that every "crazy girl" is like this. But damn, girl. You give meaning to the commonly heard phrase from guys all over the globe; "I'm not looking for a relationship right now."

I wouldn't be either!

Footnote: I emailed him a few days ago, when I rejoined OKCupid (after having deleted it upon meeting/falling quickly for Erwin) and saw he was still on there. I asked, "so, meet any new crazies lately?" He wrote back and told me that she had been making up fake screen names pretending to be me, and kept IMing him trying to trick him into talking to her.

No, I'm serious.


Girls: STOP BEING CRAZIES! Jeez la weez. I know its easy to get so upset and hurt over a guy that you feel like you need to talk to him, but please do not resort to psychotic behavior. You are making the rest of us look bad!

Boys: We are not all like this. NOT AT ALL. So get over your fears of "relationships" and start being open to meeting open, honest, and stable women. :) You never know who you're passing up!

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?
  

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.

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.

Happy Steak and BJ Day!

Sorry for the lack of posts..... this week has been painfully busy. And this weekend is no different!

The Ex arrives tonight at the airport, and is spending the weekend with me. Normally I would be all giddy in anticipation of seeing him, but I realized recently that some spark that I've always had for him seems to finally have blown out. I'm using this weekend to really figure out, once and for all, if this is going to happen or if its just time for me to move the hell on with my life. I feel refreshed that I am ready to do that if it's the best thing to do.

I'm gonna have to make this short; I have a ton to get done today before I pick him up. But you know I'll update you as soon as I can!



And of course.....

Happy Steak and Blowjob Day!

If you know me well, you know that I don't eat meat.
But if you know me really well, you know there aren't many things I genuinely enjoy doing more than giving head, and there are not many things in this world I am better at. (Blunt, I know. Sorry. Sue me.) I have a strict policy on not hooking up with people I'm not in a committed relationship with (I might love giving BJ's, but that doesn't mean I do it to just anyone), and I guess I will just have to cross my fingers and hope that next year I have someone to celebrate with.


Ladies: Go do your men right.

My brief vacay: A vague overview

Since starting my job in October, I've been asking for 3-4 days off to celebrate Christmas with my family up north (about 8 hours from where I live). I was finally given a few days off: February 24th, 25th, and 26th. Knowing I only had three nights and two and a half days, I had to make the most of it.

After working all day on Saturday, I jumped in my car and drove straight from my job to the hometown of the Ex, where I stayed for the evening. We hadn't seen each other in 6 months, and the last visit was a little strange because it was a short meeting in the lobby of the hotel he was staying in. I think we were both concerned that this visit could be as awkward as the last, but we had high hopes. In an effort to maintain the privacy and sweetness of the situation, I will just say this: it was really nice, really sweet, really innocent, and went at least as well as I had hoped for. And also reminded me of why I miss him, and reinforced the fact that I do. Very much. The only disappointing part was the fact that I'd lost 9 lbs since I saw him last, which I don't think he noticed. (Come to think of it, no one in my family did either. Fabulous.)

Sunday, after lunch and a little shopping, we said goodbye and I drove up to my own hometown where I met up with my mom and went to an Oscar party. After a few Bloody Marys with her former work friends (who haven't seen me since I was 15) I started telling them some of my most recent dating stories (including, of course, the toolshed plastic surgeon and the persian fashion mogul, among others). Within 15 minutes, I had 15-20 generously middle-aged women crowded around me, enthralled and asking question upon question, which eventually turned into a live advice column for all their own dating dilemmas. Love the ladies... but I have to say I never thought I'd be giving 55 year old women dating advice. C'est la vie!

The drive home got ugly when the conversation between my mom and I turned to her relationship with the World's Biggest Scumbag, ie her boyfriend of the past 12 years. The same Scumbag she's been vowing to break up with and kick out of her house for the past 10. Also, the same Scumbag that was the eventual cause of my moving out at the age of 16. Not my favorite subject, as I'm sure you can understand, but I'm sure I'll divulge you more in the future. But for the purpose of this story, let's just say she left my (former) stepdad (one of the most intelligent, kind-hearted, successful, worldly, sweet people ever) for the World's Biggest Scumbag, which I will never understand. Not even under the influence of hallucinogenic drugs! Long story short, my stepdad and I keep in touch because he's awesome.

Monday I woke up to an email from my stepdad, and we got together for the best sushi I think I have ever had. We talked about all different kinds of things, and he asked me some different things about how things are with the Ex, who I can tell he liked a lot. He reaffirmed my thoughts on the subject. (I wish I could say more about this, but better to say too little than too much.)

I spent the rest of the evening with my mom (and more messy conversations). I woke up this morning (Tuesday), and showered and got ready so I could leave by 11. On the way back down south, I stopped at the Ex's office and we had lunch across the street, which was still comfortable and nice and definitely a great note to end my visit on.

We texted pretty much the whole time I was driving back, and I may be wrong but I do believe we are at least somewhat in the same mindset.

I guess we'll see.

Stopped shortly at Starbucks when I got back into town to say hello to the Foxista. He was in the middle of a staff meeting and couldn't talk, but called me later and we had an unusually awkward conversation. He texted me after to tell me how there is no way he could explain how much he missed me, how he thinks about me frequently, and seeing my sweet face was "spectacular." Weird. Maybe we'll go on a second date after all.

.... MAYBE.

The Foxista: A Rundown

So we hung out last night.

Firstly, I picked him up from his house, which is only a few minutes from me which is nice, but because he doesn't have a car, which is not nice.

When I got him I asked him what he wanted to do, and he said, "Honestly I'm so stoked to be hanging out with you, I don't care what we do." (Awwww..... so nice.) I gave him the choice of either A. going to the fun brewery down the street or B. going to my house and drinking bloody marys, and he opted for the second, due to a lack of funds in his account. (Not so nice.)

We got to my house and I made us some drinks and we dove into getting to know each other. He's 26, from Upstate NY, has two older sisters, and is passionate about skateboarding and music. His goal is to submit some video footage of his skating to skate companies and get a sponsorship. To be perfectly honest with you guys, I have no problem with skateboarding, and I actually think skaters are sexy (a feeling that dates back to 7th grade and my complete and utter enfatuation with pretty much any boy at my middle school who wore baggy pants and airwalks and flipped ollies in the front parking lot during lunch), but unfortunately those kinds of goals/dreams aren't a turn on anymore when they're coming from a grown man, who, in his words, wants to settle down in the next few years. How?

I'm sorry if I sound like a total picky, wishy-washing snotty bitch, and maybe I am (I hope not), but other than the whole lacking ambition/a car/a well-paying career, he's really an amazing guy. Like I'm sure I've made clear already, he's super attractive, and he's extremely sweet, open, and affectionate. We spent the whole night talking, and he kept telling me how I was so gorgeous and he just couldn't believe I would choose him to do something like that for. After a few Bloody Marys I admitted that the primary reason I go to that Starbucks is because he works there, which he was completely surprised by, as he has spent every shift since the first night I came in hoping I'll be coming in for a coffee.

At some point in the night, we were in the kitchen talking while I was making another drink for him and was in the middle of a sentence, stopped talking, put his hands behind my head, and kissed me for what seemed like 10 minutes (but was realistically probably 10 seconds). As it turns out, he is a fantastic kisser, which he said about me as well.

From then on, we split our time between getting to know each other, and a passionate makeout sesh. Eventually we decided he was going to stay over (since I was about 4 drinks deep) and I made it clear that staying over meant sleeping, and not.... staying over (wink wink). I told him I move slowly with physical stuff, and I told him it would be no different than exactly what was going on already, except in a different room. He told me a few times that he understood, and we went upstairs.

I was very pleasantly surprised when he stripped down to boxers and I found that he has an absolutely perfect body. Think slim hips, strong V-lines and 0% body fat.... just completely toned everything. Right. (Sorry for the stockphoto, just needed an example.)

So we get in bed, and get back to making out. Its more sweet and passionate than hot and heavy (to be graphic, there isn't any intense grinding or groping or moving or anything else that would lead a person to believe this was a segway to other activities), and goes on for about 15 minutes before, ALL OF A SUDDEN, there's a hand in my pants. Literally, like a flash of lightning.

And in a similar fashion I yanked it out and asked him what the hell he thought he was doing. He apologized profusely and said it was because he was drunk. We kissed for another minute, until he pulled away, and (get this) asked me if I had a condom.

I asked him if he was kidding. No. I asked him what exactly he needed a condom for. He said, with the most sincere look on his face, that it was really important to him to be "safe."

"Were you not listening?? Did I not tell you before that nothing more was going to happen? That 'staying over' didn't entail anything?? Did I not just get mad a second ago when you put your hand down my pants?!"

Again, he apologized profusely, blamed it on all the drinks that I had made him (hesitantly.... that he had kept asking for) and then apologized some more and said I was "lucky" that it was him (a nice guy) instead of some drunk jerk that would try to take advantage of the situation (he has a point, but a weird time to bring up threatening situations with strangers). We kissed for a little bit longer and went to sleep.

So I awoke this morning to a very sexy, quietly snoring bedmate who had stolen all the covers. I managed to weasel some out of his grasp and rolled the opposite way to go back to sleep. The snoring stopped and he rolled over towards me, and said "awwww" while he wrapped his arms and legs around me and buried his face in my hair and told me how nice it was to wake up and see me next to him. And then he apologized profusely for last night and told me how embarrassed he was for being like that, and understood if I never wanted to see him again but that he really wasn't that kind of guy and it was really just the alcohol talking, and that he just feels so bad about it.

From then we rolled around and laughed and kissed and talked and snuggled and tickled each other (and were consistently turned on the whole time, though not in the aggressive way like the night before, but more in a cute funny way that we kept giggling about) 'til I realized suddenly that I had exactly an hour before I had to leave for work and get there exactly on time, and I hadn't even gotten out of bed yet, so I jumped up and got ready while he hung out with me, and drove him home on my way to work. He sent me a few really sweet texts during the day, telling me that he was thinking about me and how beautiful he thinks I am.... I could really get used to that.

I secretly hope that he can pull together some ambition and a car in the next few weeks so that he can be my boyfriend. But that might be somewhat of a miracle.

Sex and the Sushi

Just a thought..

I have this friend, and I've realized after quite a few experiences of eating sushi together that I can't go with him anymore.

We go to sushi, and we have a great time. We go out to the car; he inevitably ends up eating either one of those sour Ice Breakers things or a piece of sour apple gum, and the result is always the same. I'm not sure how to put it without being totally blunt, but basically his breath smells like he just finished giving someone head.

Invariably, and totally out of my control, this is far too much of a turn-on for me to feel comfortable in close proximity to him and I end up jumping out of the car like a bat out of hell.

Has anyone else had this experience? Why does sushi and sour apple candy cause pussy breath?


He finally talked me into telling him what the big deal is, and teases me about it now. Mercilessly. Great.



Btw, this sushi game's cute!

If it were this complicated, I would give up fooling around for good.

Sexual Consent

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(Thank you to T. for this video)

Can you imagine?

Thank god most guys aren't so opposed to Article 17.

Loose Lips

There always seemed to be something about the wait station at my old restaurant that brings out the raunchier side of my female co-workers.

Let me explain.

I'm all for talking about boys, dating, boyfriends, friends, family, boys again... and what have you. But I'll be damned if I'd ever tell a perfect stranger the intimate details of my sex life (wait, I'm a hypocrit.... let's just say other than in this blog). Apparently not everyone can say the same.

Now I'm not complaining as much as just sitting here (as I was sitting there at the time) in total shock. I have to say that as much as its sort of off-putting, its also totally entertaining to hear way TMI about someone you don't even know.

For example:
It's my third day. I'm sitting at the counter, refilling salt shakers and the cup of straws. This other waitress walks up who works with me but we've never spoken. I knew the color of her hair and her age range (I want to say like.... 39-45?), but had no idea what her name was. By the time I walked away it's likely I knew more about her than I know about a lot of my friends.

She starts off by ho-ing and hum-ing about how she looks like shit, and she's going on a date tonight. She asks me if her lipstick is too red. Does it look too whorish?

Upon a polite no, her box (not that box, thank god. I mean I don't think.) opens and details start pouring out about how she "doesn't even give a fuck" if she dates this guy, she just wants some "god damned cock." She tells me she's 34 (which is impossible, sorry) and that she's so desperate that she's even hit on her mechanic. "At this point I'll even fuck a Mexican," she tells me.

I'm completely aghast but choke out a polite response; I ask if she's ever tried Craigslist. She laughs for an awkwardly long time and tells me she's not THAT desperate. She says she and "the Mexican" went for a walk after he changed her oil and everything seemed to be going well until he asked how old she was, she told him, and he told her that she "looks good for her age." She was so appalled by his response (which I think was pretty fucking nice considering there's no way she's 34 in the first place) that she pouted all the way back to the dealership, jumped in her car, and sped off. But now she can't understand why he hasn't even called her, "that motherfucker."

She goes on to tell me that I better "enjoy youth while it lasts" because once I hit 30 it all goes downhill. The guys her age "won't fuck anyone over 28" and no matter how amazing she looks, there's always some young girl to get in the way of her much-needed dick quota. That, or the guys that will fuck her (please excuse my language, I'm only recounting what she said to me) can't get it up or "have a cock the size of [her] ring finger."

I kid you not, this actually happened. I wish I was exaggerating. Once all the napkin dispensers were full, she said, "nice talking to you!" totally cheerfully and since then has acted as if she and I have only just met. Oh wait! That was actually the case. Jesus.

Another example:
A few nights later I walk up to the same wait station (which I'm starting to gather has some sort of smutty aura that makes girls generous with the raunchiest parts of their lives) and into a conversation that two of my co-workers are having about one of their new boyfriends. One is looking in a little pocket-sized mirror, perfecting some totally vampy shade of violet-red lipstick while her friend fills pitchers of ice water. She asks the water girl if it looks even, and she replies, "does it really matter? You're just gonna smear it all over his dick anyway." Here we go again.

They both turn around and look and me and giggle, and then continue on as if I'm naturally just part of this conversation. The one applying tells us that she kissed a piece of paper for him to take to his tattoo artist so he can get it tattooed on his ass. I can tell by the tone of her voice and the look in her eyes that this is by far the most romantic thing that's ever happened to her.

Water girl tells Lipstick Girl that she shouldn't let him do that, because she's going to get tired of him and break his heart. I ask how long they've been together, they burst into a fit of giggles. "They're not actually together," Water Girl tells me. "Well kind of!" Lipstick Girl says. I ask, again, how long they've been "seeing each other." They tell me three weeks. That's not bad. Water Girl says, "Yeah, but tell her how long his girlfriend has known."

Lipstick Girl starts telling me about how he was going down on her (!!!) a few mornings ago at around 9am when his girl friend (not to be confused with girlfriend; apparently this girl is just a friend of his who likes to "cockblock" him at every possible moment.... her word, not mine) called to ask what time he wanted to hang out, although they didn't have any prior plans. She kept insisting that they did have plans, but Lipstick Girl is convinced the Cockblock only called 'cause she knew she was over. The CB went on to whine and complain that ever since "that girl" has been around he didn't have any time for her. LG goes on to tell me about how she just got kicked out of her house and moved in with him, and they are now living together, though they hardly know each other.

Lastly, she tells me about the most perfect first date she's ever had - their first meeting. She met him through some mutual friends at a party where she was pretty trashed, and slept with him.

Yep. End of story. I know... for a hopeless romantic like myself that's almost too much! I think the look on my face wasn't enough to convince her that I was impressed, so she explained, so very earnestly, that it only made sense because she hadn't had GOOD sex in 5 months.

Almost brings a tear to your eye, doesn't it?

Right before bringing some appetizers to her table, she says it'll have to only be head tonight though, 'cause she's on her period. WOW.

Every time I was standing there with another waitress they end up either telling me or someone else something I absolutely didn't want to know.

What is it about that counter??