Last night I decided to join my friends Emma and Nick for some drinks. We went to a place called the crossing where we paid too much for beer, and Emma successfully caught the attention of a guy I had been eyeing. Upon these facts, we decided it was a good time to move on to another bar and we ended up at the ever so ridiculous Uncle Fatty's.
Now, I had no idea that on Thursdays the bar hosts "beer" pong tournaments and has $1 beers, but I was very happy with the new information. I had a beer and went to sign myself up to play in the tournament. Since Emma and Nick weren't going to be playing, I asked the woman if there was any other singles looking for a partner. She informed me there was one and said she would send him my way.
Within moments, an attractive man with a rather large nose (do not judge, but big noses are a weakness for me) walked up. He introduced himself as Ryan, however due to intoxication and a loud bar I shouted back, "Your name is LION?" He looked at me like I was insane and corrected me. Nick, trying to be an ever-faithful wing man; decided this was the time to tell my new partner that I was "Crazy".
The look in his eye seemed to say he was regretting coming over, but he instead asked me what our team name should be. My response was, "Well obviously it should be 'Crazy Lions'." He looked at me to make sure I was serious- which I was- and then went to get our name tags.
Over the next couple of hours we started talking for "teammate comradery, and then we started kissing- which is also very important when trying to get acquainted with your new "beer" pong teammate. Emma and Nick ended up leaving, and after winning two games Ryan asked if I would like to leave as well. I agreed and we went to look for a cab.
As we stood outside, I looked at him and said point blank: "I'm not sleeping with you tonight." He looked at me with a bit of surprise in his eyes, grabbed my hand and said okay.
We got back to his place, where my favorite part of nights like these happened: the pulling together of pajamas for me to sleep in. I love getting to put on boys over-sized sweat pants and tee-shirts, even if they do belong to almost strangers.
Moving on, we climbed into bed where I promptly fell asleep on him. I probably drooled too, as I was that tired. However, within an hour we were both up and fooling around. This lasted all night until 7:30 when he took me downstairs, cooked me breakfast and watched "Saved by the Bell- the College Years" with me.
He got ready to go into work for a couple of hours, but insisted that I stay and sleep until he got home. Although this vaguely reminded me of an episode of "Sex and the City" and it should have completely freaked me out, I allowed him to tuck me in and I fell asleep for four glorious hours.
Upon his arrival back, he laid down in the bed with me and things started heating up. Although I wasn't opposed to something happening, I was a bit concerned as I had had no intentions of going home with someone and in result, had not shaved in several days. So when he went for my pants, I leapt into the air as if he had electrocuted me. I embarrassingly explained the situation and told him if he had a razor I could fix the problem really quick.
And that is how Nicole ended up shaving her legs in some guy's bathroom sink.
What happened next was rather enjoyable and full of enough energy that the bed broke beneath us. I hung on for dear life as I began to slide off of the bed, and then we flipped to the other side, which was now standing at a 45 degree angle. After the deed was done, we did some investigation work which showed that the metal frame had literally bent in half.
In other words, Ryan is buying himself a brand new bed frame.
To end the day, he took me out to lunch and walked me home where he asked to see me again. A huge smile played across my face as I walked back into my apartment.
I guess what I am trying to say is that I should always sign up to play "beer" pong alone.
Friday, October 15, 2010
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Lost
It has sadly been much too long since I have had an opportunity to share my dating experiences on here. Unfortunately, I have been working like a dog the past month and have had little to zero chances to meet any men. Unless I pick one up on the train, which is very doubtful as my excessive dancing and lip-syncing tend to scare them off.
Either way, I have not dropped off the planet. And since I feel like a disappointment for not having any new and hilarious tales of romance to share with you, I have decided to bring one back from my past. I feel as if this is rather appropriate as the ten year anniversary of this particular event is in the very near future. It is very possibly my favorite love-gone-wrong story. Perhaps you have heard it before... or perhaps you know him. All of that aside... I present to you the story of how I lost my virginity:
Let's start out with the fact that I was much too young. I know that now, and I am pretty sure I knew that then. A series of bazaar events led up to the actual decision. The choice to begin my sexual life is the direct result of my mother finding a bottle of lube and condoms in my brother's dresser drawer and dragging me into his bedroom to show me the findings (sorry Eric). Now, why any sane mother would decide to share this with her 14 year old daughter, no one knows. Either way, if got my mind a whirling. I knew that my brother and his girlfriend were in love. Did I know that they were going to end up getting married because they were soul mates? No. But as a stupid little girl I decided that the obvious route to make a man fall for me was to sleep with him.
Unluckily for me, I was dating one of my brother's best friends at the time. And when he brought up the concept of sleeping together- I swallowed my fear and told him yes.
He brought me back to his house one snowy day in January so the deed could be done. He led me to his room, which was undoubtedly going to set the stage for the romance that was about to happen. However, when I entered the bedroom I was taken aback. Baby blue in color, it sported a wallpaper trim around the ceiling that depicted puppies and kittens frolicking. Instead of the normal posters you would have seen in a 16 year-old's room, there were drawn pictures of "The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles" with his signature scrawled at the bottom tacked unevenly against the wall.
I held in my laughter and sat awkwardly on the bed. I imagined us tearing off our clothes in a fit of passion, but alas that was to be saved for more grown-up interactions. In this particular event we undressed as quickly as we could and hopped under the covers. There was some kissing as a form of foreplay and then business time.
I remember laying there terrified out of my mind. He asked if I was okay, which I thought very nice of him and I answered yes. Then shit got weird. The next words he said (mid-thrust, must I point out) was:
"So, how's the weather?"
My mind raced to every sex scene I had ever watched. None of them EVER brought up the weather. Was this normal?
That was as far as I got in my inner questioning, because out of nowhere he must have finished. I gathered this much because he leapt out of the bed covering his penis and sprinted out of the room. I laid in his bed completely naked for awhile, trying to figure out what to do. Honestly, no movie had ever prepared for me this. I figured he would come back in a couple of seconds and cuddle with me.
I was wrong. He reentered the room several minutes later fully dressed and with his shoes on. He looked at me like I was a leper for still being in his bed and nude, so I got dressed under the covers and he drove me home.
A couple of weeks later he dumped me. Apparently this girl he liked would only date guys if they weren't virgins- so he took care of that little issue. To this day, I laugh that any girl would be that dumb... and I'm not talking about me. I mean, seriously? What kind of high school girl sets standards like that for herself? Oh, that's right... whores.
A lot of people hear this story and focus on the end, which was less than ideal. But to me, I think it really has set the standard for my love life: hilarious and ridiculous.
Either way, I have not dropped off the planet. And since I feel like a disappointment for not having any new and hilarious tales of romance to share with you, I have decided to bring one back from my past. I feel as if this is rather appropriate as the ten year anniversary of this particular event is in the very near future. It is very possibly my favorite love-gone-wrong story. Perhaps you have heard it before... or perhaps you know him. All of that aside... I present to you the story of how I lost my virginity:
Let's start out with the fact that I was much too young. I know that now, and I am pretty sure I knew that then. A series of bazaar events led up to the actual decision. The choice to begin my sexual life is the direct result of my mother finding a bottle of lube and condoms in my brother's dresser drawer and dragging me into his bedroom to show me the findings (sorry Eric). Now, why any sane mother would decide to share this with her 14 year old daughter, no one knows. Either way, if got my mind a whirling. I knew that my brother and his girlfriend were in love. Did I know that they were going to end up getting married because they were soul mates? No. But as a stupid little girl I decided that the obvious route to make a man fall for me was to sleep with him.
Unluckily for me, I was dating one of my brother's best friends at the time. And when he brought up the concept of sleeping together- I swallowed my fear and told him yes.
He brought me back to his house one snowy day in January so the deed could be done. He led me to his room, which was undoubtedly going to set the stage for the romance that was about to happen. However, when I entered the bedroom I was taken aback. Baby blue in color, it sported a wallpaper trim around the ceiling that depicted puppies and kittens frolicking. Instead of the normal posters you would have seen in a 16 year-old's room, there were drawn pictures of "The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles" with his signature scrawled at the bottom tacked unevenly against the wall.
I held in my laughter and sat awkwardly on the bed. I imagined us tearing off our clothes in a fit of passion, but alas that was to be saved for more grown-up interactions. In this particular event we undressed as quickly as we could and hopped under the covers. There was some kissing as a form of foreplay and then business time.
I remember laying there terrified out of my mind. He asked if I was okay, which I thought very nice of him and I answered yes. Then shit got weird. The next words he said (mid-thrust, must I point out) was:
"So, how's the weather?"
My mind raced to every sex scene I had ever watched. None of them EVER brought up the weather. Was this normal?
That was as far as I got in my inner questioning, because out of nowhere he must have finished. I gathered this much because he leapt out of the bed covering his penis and sprinted out of the room. I laid in his bed completely naked for awhile, trying to figure out what to do. Honestly, no movie had ever prepared for me this. I figured he would come back in a couple of seconds and cuddle with me.
I was wrong. He reentered the room several minutes later fully dressed and with his shoes on. He looked at me like I was a leper for still being in his bed and nude, so I got dressed under the covers and he drove me home.
A couple of weeks later he dumped me. Apparently this girl he liked would only date guys if they weren't virgins- so he took care of that little issue. To this day, I laugh that any girl would be that dumb... and I'm not talking about me. I mean, seriously? What kind of high school girl sets standards like that for herself? Oh, that's right... whores.
A lot of people hear this story and focus on the end, which was less than ideal. But to me, I think it really has set the standard for my love life: hilarious and ridiculous.
Friday, September 17, 2010
It's Bizness Time
After my last post, I decided that maybe I was being too hard on Biz. I figured that he was cute enough that I wanted to give him a second chance to prove himself not to be a complete weirdo. I agreed to meet him two days later to watch a movie.
He came over to my place and began shuffling through my roomie's extensive DVD collection, finally deciding on "My Cousin Vinny". I inform him that this is a perfect choice, because I haven't seen it in over ten years, so I don't remember much about it. His response to said statement is to start quoting the film.
Quick quiz! What does Nicole dislike as much; if not more than uncomfortable impressions? If you guessed useless movie quotes when they are not needed/ when the person won't understand them- you would be correct! To me, it's just a way to fill silence without really saying anything. Sometimes, appropriate. But not here.
I looked at him with angry confusion and said, "Why are you quoting a movie I JUST told you I haven't seen in years?" He told me because the line was so good he couldn't help himself. Right. Because ANY line from "My Cousin Vinny" is such a work of genius you can't hold it in for five minutes until I watch it for myself.
We curled up on my futon, and I tried to ignore all the times that he quoted along with the movie. Or all the times that he said, "That's what she said". Or all the times he tried to put his index finger down my shirt and wiggle it around.
For the record, these are all things that I find to be turn-offs.
He left, and once again I felt mixed feelings about the fact that most of the things he did in my presence were annoying, yet I was still so attracted to him.
Due to such confusion, I decided to give him one last chance. My roomie and I were at our local bar last night, and I invited him out for a drink. After a bit of bitching and moaning on his part, he decided he would come out.
Biz walked up to us, and told the bartender (who just so happened to be my roomie's boyfriend) "I'll have whatever she's buying me" before sitting down. He explained that he was tired and grouchy and lived up to that by acting a bit like a jackass the entire time. At this point, I was feeling a bit bubbly and was trying to make the best of the situation by playing off his asshole ways as jokes.
He invited me to check out his new apartment and I agreed as it was only about ten minutes away. I was hoping that maybe one on one he would do something charming. I can only blame this irrational thinking to the beer, especially since I have been around him alone before and charming is not a word that has once come to mind.
We get to his place, and it is not somewhere that looks like has just been moved into. It looks like he just doesn't have any furniture, but has been living there for a couple of months. Which is odd. He takes me to his bedroom and gives me a pair of sweat pants to put on and then starts the movie "Tremors".
If you guessed that he started quoting it, you get bonus points!
We were both asleep within fifteen minutes, which is the last thing I expected to happen. I mean, the guy didn't even try to kiss me. Weird. We wake up this morning, he hands me a granola bar for breakfast, and he begins to talk to me about how he really believes in alien abduction.
This turns into an hour long "discussion" of him explaining all the signs that aliens have been to Earth. The pyramids, the Bubonic Plague, the time that he "felt" a bright light behind him and then there was a circle shape in his backyard.
All valid points, I am sure. But as he is talking, my eyes are wandering to his shelving which are lined with books on serial killers. Then he drops the bomb:
"Yeah, I mean I have been to all kinds of shrinks and none of them could figure out what's wrong with me."
WOAH. What I missed in those few seconds I am not sure. But he said this as casually as if he were talking about what he had for dinner the night before and did not follow up with an explanation. Either way, I decided to leave.
You can't say that this girl didn't try. I gave him several chances, and every time he just looked worse and worse. It makes me wonder though, was he trying to come off as weird or is he honestly just that out of tune that he didn't realize he was saying and doing all the wrong things?
Or maybe aliens abducted him and rewired his brain so he would be socially stupid. They probably downloaded thousands of movie quotes in there too, and if he didn't say them out loud every time a movie was brought up he would get an electric shock sent to him from outer space.
Honestly, that's as plausible as me going on another date with him.
He came over to my place and began shuffling through my roomie's extensive DVD collection, finally deciding on "My Cousin Vinny". I inform him that this is a perfect choice, because I haven't seen it in over ten years, so I don't remember much about it. His response to said statement is to start quoting the film.
Quick quiz! What does Nicole dislike as much; if not more than uncomfortable impressions? If you guessed useless movie quotes when they are not needed/ when the person won't understand them- you would be correct! To me, it's just a way to fill silence without really saying anything. Sometimes, appropriate. But not here.
I looked at him with angry confusion and said, "Why are you quoting a movie I JUST told you I haven't seen in years?" He told me because the line was so good he couldn't help himself. Right. Because ANY line from "My Cousin Vinny" is such a work of genius you can't hold it in for five minutes until I watch it for myself.
We curled up on my futon, and I tried to ignore all the times that he quoted along with the movie. Or all the times that he said, "That's what she said". Or all the times he tried to put his index finger down my shirt and wiggle it around.
For the record, these are all things that I find to be turn-offs.
He left, and once again I felt mixed feelings about the fact that most of the things he did in my presence were annoying, yet I was still so attracted to him.
Due to such confusion, I decided to give him one last chance. My roomie and I were at our local bar last night, and I invited him out for a drink. After a bit of bitching and moaning on his part, he decided he would come out.
Biz walked up to us, and told the bartender (who just so happened to be my roomie's boyfriend) "I'll have whatever she's buying me" before sitting down. He explained that he was tired and grouchy and lived up to that by acting a bit like a jackass the entire time. At this point, I was feeling a bit bubbly and was trying to make the best of the situation by playing off his asshole ways as jokes.
He invited me to check out his new apartment and I agreed as it was only about ten minutes away. I was hoping that maybe one on one he would do something charming. I can only blame this irrational thinking to the beer, especially since I have been around him alone before and charming is not a word that has once come to mind.
We get to his place, and it is not somewhere that looks like has just been moved into. It looks like he just doesn't have any furniture, but has been living there for a couple of months. Which is odd. He takes me to his bedroom and gives me a pair of sweat pants to put on and then starts the movie "Tremors".
If you guessed that he started quoting it, you get bonus points!
We were both asleep within fifteen minutes, which is the last thing I expected to happen. I mean, the guy didn't even try to kiss me. Weird. We wake up this morning, he hands me a granola bar for breakfast, and he begins to talk to me about how he really believes in alien abduction.
This turns into an hour long "discussion" of him explaining all the signs that aliens have been to Earth. The pyramids, the Bubonic Plague, the time that he "felt" a bright light behind him and then there was a circle shape in his backyard.
All valid points, I am sure. But as he is talking, my eyes are wandering to his shelving which are lined with books on serial killers. Then he drops the bomb:
"Yeah, I mean I have been to all kinds of shrinks and none of them could figure out what's wrong with me."
WOAH. What I missed in those few seconds I am not sure. But he said this as casually as if he were talking about what he had for dinner the night before and did not follow up with an explanation. Either way, I decided to leave.
You can't say that this girl didn't try. I gave him several chances, and every time he just looked worse and worse. It makes me wonder though, was he trying to come off as weird or is he honestly just that out of tune that he didn't realize he was saying and doing all the wrong things?
Or maybe aliens abducted him and rewired his brain so he would be socially stupid. They probably downloaded thousands of movie quotes in there too, and if he didn't say them out loud every time a movie was brought up he would get an electric shock sent to him from outer space.
Honestly, that's as plausible as me going on another date with him.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
ShowBiz
As some of you may know, I was recently dropped with the bomb that my ex boyfriend has a new girlfriend. Although this was a tough pill to swallow, it was ultimately a positive tidbit of information. I was forced to realize I was still holding onto something I shouldn't have been. After some solid crying, temper tantrums, cyber stalking and a few word vomit episodes; I feel the freest I have been since the breakup.
In honor of said freedom, I decided to take a break from the ordinary and risk a date with someone I thought I could possibly like. Backwards, I know- but I thought it may be a good change of pace.
I recruited another young gentleman from Plenty of Fish who is about to move to Chicago from Cleveland, and was in town to finalize some details of his new life. We had planned our date for Wednesday night, but after several flirty text messages had decided that the task at hand could not wait and pushed it up a night.
For the sake of the blog, let's call this gentleman Biz.
Biz met me at the train station, and I was attracted to him immediately. I could literally feel myself being pulled to him as we walked to a local bar. However, I quickly learned that Biz thinks very highly of himself. First of all, as we sat sipping our beers he decided to pull out his Iphone and show me several of the videos he has shot/edited (he's a film editor). And by several, I mean at least three. Then he decided to start in with his impersonations, something mentioned in his PoF profile that I had hoped I would be able to avoid.
For the record, I hate impersonations. Especially when someone is directing them at me in a bar. I mean, what does a person say after their date just sounded like Jack Nicholson from "The Shining", telling you they are going to bash your brains in?
"Haha, that was really believable and now I want to run as far away from you as possible?"
After these minor faux pas, the conversation turned normal and I decided that it was safe to take him to a very sacred place. Oh you heard it right- I took him to the playground. We swung, went down the slide, compared stories of us when were bratty children. When we finally made it around to the monkey bars, I bashfully told him I had never been able to play on them due to the fact that I have arms with as much strength as a spaghetti noodle.
Biz's reaction was to lift me up and hold me as I swung from rung to rung. Once completed I let go and slid down him. Then came the kiss.
And then came another. And another.
We decided to go back to my place; where we laid on my bed, sharing a pillow and Biz showed me MORE of his film editings which made me want to roll over and fall asleep. This is where the most uncomfortable moment of the evening happened... us curled up on my bed together, watching music videos of bad bands he had filmed. Biz decided that there was one of his clients I really needed to hear and typed in www.myspace....
Lo and behold, what pops up in my recently viewed bar? HIS myspace, with his name in all caps from when I did some research on him before the date.
I could feel my face turn scarlet as he cleared his throat and clicked on the link he wanted.
Neither of us said anything, but I was warmly welcomed to the "crazy girl club" in that moment.
He stayed a bit longer, hinted at wanting to sleep with me (which I actually declined...shocking), and then left.
Today I had mixed feelings about the date. Although I was very attracted to him, and liked a lot about him, half the time I felt like Biz was just trying to sell his work to me. I understand being passionate about your life's work... but there is a line. Forcing a date to watch 2 hours worth of your stuff the first time you meet her? May in fact be a deal breaker, buddy.
The real question I have to ask myself is: "Did I buy into what he was selling?"
In honor of said freedom, I decided to take a break from the ordinary and risk a date with someone I thought I could possibly like. Backwards, I know- but I thought it may be a good change of pace.
I recruited another young gentleman from Plenty of Fish who is about to move to Chicago from Cleveland, and was in town to finalize some details of his new life. We had planned our date for Wednesday night, but after several flirty text messages had decided that the task at hand could not wait and pushed it up a night.
For the sake of the blog, let's call this gentleman Biz.
Biz met me at the train station, and I was attracted to him immediately. I could literally feel myself being pulled to him as we walked to a local bar. However, I quickly learned that Biz thinks very highly of himself. First of all, as we sat sipping our beers he decided to pull out his Iphone and show me several of the videos he has shot/edited (he's a film editor). And by several, I mean at least three. Then he decided to start in with his impersonations, something mentioned in his PoF profile that I had hoped I would be able to avoid.
For the record, I hate impersonations. Especially when someone is directing them at me in a bar. I mean, what does a person say after their date just sounded like Jack Nicholson from "The Shining", telling you they are going to bash your brains in?
"Haha, that was really believable and now I want to run as far away from you as possible?"
After these minor faux pas, the conversation turned normal and I decided that it was safe to take him to a very sacred place. Oh you heard it right- I took him to the playground. We swung, went down the slide, compared stories of us when were bratty children. When we finally made it around to the monkey bars, I bashfully told him I had never been able to play on them due to the fact that I have arms with as much strength as a spaghetti noodle.
Biz's reaction was to lift me up and hold me as I swung from rung to rung. Once completed I let go and slid down him. Then came the kiss.
And then came another. And another.
We decided to go back to my place; where we laid on my bed, sharing a pillow and Biz showed me MORE of his film editings which made me want to roll over and fall asleep. This is where the most uncomfortable moment of the evening happened... us curled up on my bed together, watching music videos of bad bands he had filmed. Biz decided that there was one of his clients I really needed to hear and typed in www.myspace....
Lo and behold, what pops up in my recently viewed bar? HIS myspace, with his name in all caps from when I did some research on him before the date.
I could feel my face turn scarlet as he cleared his throat and clicked on the link he wanted.
Neither of us said anything, but I was warmly welcomed to the "crazy girl club" in that moment.
He stayed a bit longer, hinted at wanting to sleep with me (which I actually declined...shocking), and then left.
Today I had mixed feelings about the date. Although I was very attracted to him, and liked a lot about him, half the time I felt like Biz was just trying to sell his work to me. I understand being passionate about your life's work... but there is a line. Forcing a date to watch 2 hours worth of your stuff the first time you meet her? May in fact be a deal breaker, buddy.
The real question I have to ask myself is: "Did I buy into what he was selling?"
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Museum of Awkwardness and Hookups
Before we get down to brass tax; a follow up to my last post:
Upon discovering the Groom's brother to be a lying cheater, I did what any sane girl would do- fucked with him. This included texting him throughout the day until he invited me to meet up with him again. And then I brought up his girlfriend's name. He finally called me while intoxicated and fessed up to his infidelity. He blamed it on everything from the booze to the fact that she had "cheated on him a couple of weeks ago". He apologized to me and I decided that as much as I hate the fact that I was the other woman in this scenario, that this wasn't my battle to fight. Was it the right decision? Maybe not... but it is the one I have decided to live with.
Fast forward to yesterday...
I have been talking with yet another guy from Plenty of Fish; the suspect in question is a 24 year old accountant from Orange County. We have been texting regularly for a couple of weeks, and although I wasn't very attracted to him I thought that possibly in person things could be better. I agreed to go on a date with him to the Museum of Science and Industry, not as much because I wanted to go out with him but because I have been dying to go to that Museum.
Before the date even started, some things worried me. For starters "OC" was calling me babe and darling. Cute if you are in a relationship. Creepy if you have never met the person. Also, he informed me of his love for nudity. Going as far as to say, "If it weren't for public opinion I would never wear clothes. When I am at home I am always naked... and if I had a steady girlfriend and she were over, I would still always be naked."
Ew. Not something you share before a first date, buddy. Save that conversation until you have a girl roped in and trapped, hence having to put up with your gross naked body all over her furniture.
My gut told me to run, but like I said... Museum of Science and Industry. So I decided to put on my poker face and enjoy a nice day... I should have listened to my gut.
Let's start out with the fact that he arrived to pick me up in his fancy pick-up truck done to the nines with strobe lights, crappy rims and undertow lights BLARING pop music. I mean, so loud I could hear it in my apartment and I could only pray that it was coming from someone else. Of course it was him, grinning happily away.
I was already embarrassed for myself and the date hadn't even technically started. Which is the only reason I can account to the phenomenon of what I will call "Nicole acting like a bitch", which I surely did several times during the day. I hissed at him to turn the radio down as I got in the car. We had an okay talk on the way there, but as soon as we got out of the vehicle a whole new issue arose: he had awkward baby/feminine face AND a pot belly, which he proudly showed off in his tight fitting tee. Talk about denial.
We went to see the giant submarine, where they force you to take a picture in front of the vessel. I kindly declined, but "OC" found this a perfect sentimental moment. He grabbed ahold of my waist and pulled me eagerly toward him. Upon exiting the exhibit, I was forced to look at said photographic evidence of my uncomfortableness... he looked happy as a clam, clenched onto me. You can see the fear in my eye as I give two thumbs up and lean as far as I can away.
He wanted to buy it. I can only think of one reason why someone would want to purchase a photographic keepsake of a first date... and that reason is insanity.
The rest of the excursion was full of us not really talking, or talking and not having anything in common, or me saying dumb things to turn him off, or me feeling so uncomfortable I wanted to hide in the bathroom. By the time he drove me home and announced his love for Nickleback, I was done. I openly laughed in his face as he tried to prove a point..."Haven't you ever heard the song Animals? It's Epic." I laughed harder.
One would openly assume that he would have picked up on the negative energy surrounding us. Nope. "OC" got out of the truck with his beer-bellied self to hug me goodbye and to try to plan date #2. I sputtered something about life getting busy soon. I still don't think he got the point.
That evening I went into the local bar to have a couple of drinks and came home with a gorgeous, 6'9 tall man from Virginia.
It was like some higher power was saying, "For giving that nudist a chance and still being forced to have a terrible date... here is a present. I hope you like it!!"
And ohhh did I.
Upon discovering the Groom's brother to be a lying cheater, I did what any sane girl would do- fucked with him. This included texting him throughout the day until he invited me to meet up with him again. And then I brought up his girlfriend's name. He finally called me while intoxicated and fessed up to his infidelity. He blamed it on everything from the booze to the fact that she had "cheated on him a couple of weeks ago". He apologized to me and I decided that as much as I hate the fact that I was the other woman in this scenario, that this wasn't my battle to fight. Was it the right decision? Maybe not... but it is the one I have decided to live with.
Fast forward to yesterday...
I have been talking with yet another guy from Plenty of Fish; the suspect in question is a 24 year old accountant from Orange County. We have been texting regularly for a couple of weeks, and although I wasn't very attracted to him I thought that possibly in person things could be better. I agreed to go on a date with him to the Museum of Science and Industry, not as much because I wanted to go out with him but because I have been dying to go to that Museum.
Before the date even started, some things worried me. For starters "OC" was calling me babe and darling. Cute if you are in a relationship. Creepy if you have never met the person. Also, he informed me of his love for nudity. Going as far as to say, "If it weren't for public opinion I would never wear clothes. When I am at home I am always naked... and if I had a steady girlfriend and she were over, I would still always be naked."
Ew. Not something you share before a first date, buddy. Save that conversation until you have a girl roped in and trapped, hence having to put up with your gross naked body all over her furniture.
My gut told me to run, but like I said... Museum of Science and Industry. So I decided to put on my poker face and enjoy a nice day... I should have listened to my gut.
Let's start out with the fact that he arrived to pick me up in his fancy pick-up truck done to the nines with strobe lights, crappy rims and undertow lights BLARING pop music. I mean, so loud I could hear it in my apartment and I could only pray that it was coming from someone else. Of course it was him, grinning happily away.
I was already embarrassed for myself and the date hadn't even technically started. Which is the only reason I can account to the phenomenon of what I will call "Nicole acting like a bitch", which I surely did several times during the day. I hissed at him to turn the radio down as I got in the car. We had an okay talk on the way there, but as soon as we got out of the vehicle a whole new issue arose: he had awkward baby/feminine face AND a pot belly, which he proudly showed off in his tight fitting tee. Talk about denial.
We went to see the giant submarine, where they force you to take a picture in front of the vessel. I kindly declined, but "OC" found this a perfect sentimental moment. He grabbed ahold of my waist and pulled me eagerly toward him. Upon exiting the exhibit, I was forced to look at said photographic evidence of my uncomfortableness... he looked happy as a clam, clenched onto me. You can see the fear in my eye as I give two thumbs up and lean as far as I can away.
He wanted to buy it. I can only think of one reason why someone would want to purchase a photographic keepsake of a first date... and that reason is insanity.
The rest of the excursion was full of us not really talking, or talking and not having anything in common, or me saying dumb things to turn him off, or me feeling so uncomfortable I wanted to hide in the bathroom. By the time he drove me home and announced his love for Nickleback, I was done. I openly laughed in his face as he tried to prove a point..."Haven't you ever heard the song Animals? It's Epic." I laughed harder.
One would openly assume that he would have picked up on the negative energy surrounding us. Nope. "OC" got out of the truck with his beer-bellied self to hug me goodbye and to try to plan date #2. I sputtered something about life getting busy soon. I still don't think he got the point.
That evening I went into the local bar to have a couple of drinks and came home with a gorgeous, 6'9 tall man from Virginia.
It was like some higher power was saying, "For giving that nudist a chance and still being forced to have a terrible date... here is a present. I hope you like it!!"
And ohhh did I.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
To Have and To Hold
Last night I was suffering from a terrible bout of Cabin Fever and was about to go out to a local bar down the street alone when my good friend Emma called and agreed to meet for a drink. We met at a bar called the Mystic Celt near her work where we had a couple of drinks and gabbed about life. When she informed me that she was going to have to leave soon, I jokingly gestured to a group of men standing outside and said, "It's cool... I am going to hang out with them the rest of the night."
Little did I know, that group of men was actually a bachelor party and they had seen me motion towards them; which inspired a couple of them to come over and chat Emma and I up. One in particular seemed rather interested in me. He introduced himself as the Groom-to-be's brother and invited me to join the group. Although confused as to how bringing a girl along to a bachelor party isn't considered a buzz-kill, he seemed very sweet. He also reminded me of Edward Norton, which I liked. So, despite what my mother would surely consider a "kidnap-rape-murder" scenario; I tagged along.
All of the gentleman were very nice to me. I had shots and beer bought for me and was hanging out with them like one of the guys. By the third bar, I was feeling good. Good enough, in fact, to partake in some drunken making out with the Groom's brother.
After several minutes of grossing out everyone else at the bar, we decided to get another drink. However, upon our return to the table, the rest of the party had disappeared. They were no where to be found.
So, being the considerate lady I am- I took the Groom's brother home.
From here, I don't have to get into too much detail. But I will say: I got laid. Twice.
He left this morning after plenty of cuddling, kissing and number exchanging. He said he really liked me and wanted to see me again. He left and I felt good.
The dumbass made one mistake though- and that was to give me his last name.
Living in today's day and age, of course the first thing I did was FB him. Mainly because I wanted to show my cousin what he looked like as I told her about my evening. I click on his profile and my jaw drops.
"In a relationship with.... "
Shit. Maybe it's a joke? I click on her name.
Picture of her, him and a child on some sort of intertube, waving and wearing life vests.
Under her interests? Motherhood.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
"Hi, I am Nicole and I just slept with someone's boyfriend/ baby's father(?). Twice."
(This is where you all stand up and say, "Hi Nicole!")
Honestly, this is why so many men get a bad reputation. Assholes like this guy. He seemed so very genuine- only to find out he played me so very well.
The next question is, how much do I get involved? Do I tell his girlfriend? I don't think I will...just the thought of doing that is so gross. Plus, she might knife me. Because a lot of the time girls who have been cheated on don't listen to logic such as: murder is bad for you.
So, what should I do? Tell her? Let him think he got away with it? Add him on FB and make him feel super awkward?
I guess I should look on the bright side- at least he wasn't the Groom.
Little did I know, that group of men was actually a bachelor party and they had seen me motion towards them; which inspired a couple of them to come over and chat Emma and I up. One in particular seemed rather interested in me. He introduced himself as the Groom-to-be's brother and invited me to join the group. Although confused as to how bringing a girl along to a bachelor party isn't considered a buzz-kill, he seemed very sweet. He also reminded me of Edward Norton, which I liked. So, despite what my mother would surely consider a "kidnap-rape-murder" scenario; I tagged along.
All of the gentleman were very nice to me. I had shots and beer bought for me and was hanging out with them like one of the guys. By the third bar, I was feeling good. Good enough, in fact, to partake in some drunken making out with the Groom's brother.
After several minutes of grossing out everyone else at the bar, we decided to get another drink. However, upon our return to the table, the rest of the party had disappeared. They were no where to be found.
So, being the considerate lady I am- I took the Groom's brother home.
From here, I don't have to get into too much detail. But I will say: I got laid. Twice.
He left this morning after plenty of cuddling, kissing and number exchanging. He said he really liked me and wanted to see me again. He left and I felt good.
The dumbass made one mistake though- and that was to give me his last name.
Living in today's day and age, of course the first thing I did was FB him. Mainly because I wanted to show my cousin what he looked like as I told her about my evening. I click on his profile and my jaw drops.
"In a relationship with.... "
Shit. Maybe it's a joke? I click on her name.
Picture of her, him and a child on some sort of intertube, waving and wearing life vests.
Under her interests? Motherhood.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
"Hi, I am Nicole and I just slept with someone's boyfriend/ baby's father(?). Twice."
(This is where you all stand up and say, "Hi Nicole!")
Honestly, this is why so many men get a bad reputation. Assholes like this guy. He seemed so very genuine- only to find out he played me so very well.
The next question is, how much do I get involved? Do I tell his girlfriend? I don't think I will...just the thought of doing that is so gross. Plus, she might knife me. Because a lot of the time girls who have been cheated on don't listen to logic such as: murder is bad for you.
So, what should I do? Tell her? Let him think he got away with it? Add him on FB and make him feel super awkward?
I guess I should look on the bright side- at least he wasn't the Groom.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
WTF Factor
The ear to ear smiles have officially ended. This is not due to a bad date, or an awkward conversation. It is due to that fact that I haven't heard a word from Ryan since the last time I saw him over a week ago. It is upsetting, to say the least; as I had actually started to like him. What is worse is that the last time I had seen him, he was telling me about things he wanted to do the next time we hung out- including having me stay the night with him.
I texted him the Monday after to see if he was available Tuesday or Wednesday. By the time Wednesday afternoon rolled around, I had decided to text him again... this time just to say that I understood if he couldn't hang out, but wished that he would have at least told me. Still no response. As a last result I actually called and left him a voicemail today seeing if he was available next week. I figure if there is no response then I will have to suck it up, let it go, and learn from the mistake of letting myself have any type of feelings for a guy. At least this soon.
Due to the fact that I have been feeling rather in the dumps about Ryan's sudden silence, I have been trying to overwork my mojo to compensate. Last night, while at my local bar I spot two nerdy-but-adorable men. I can tell the taller of the two is interested in me, and I wasn't far off. We ended up playing darts, talking and holding hands throughout the night. By the time the bar closed, he was asking me to join them at another bar. When I declined he insisted on walking me home instead.
Once we reached my door, I expected the typical "So can I call you sometime?" This assumption is why I am still so very in the dark.
He gave me an awkward hug, smiled at me and said, "Until next time."
I am pretty sure I looked at him as if he suddenly grew a horn out of his forehead as I responded in disbelief, "Next time?" He just smiled again and nodded.
And then he walked away.
Oh! Okay, silly me! Of course, next time. When I decide to shine my batman like symbol into the sky so you know I would like to meet up again. What was I thinking being confused?
I am beginning to wonder how many men actually want to get to know a girl, or if they are just trying to build up their self esteem by getting a pretty girl to like them. I mean, what is the point in putting in so much effort only to say, "Well that was fun... but not fun enough that I want to ever see you again."
I suppose these are good things to have happen to me. Knocks me down a peg or two (because I have never been the full-of-herself kind of girl) and helps me remember that I am still very new to dating. And that's what is fun about it... the game is always changing.
I texted him the Monday after to see if he was available Tuesday or Wednesday. By the time Wednesday afternoon rolled around, I had decided to text him again... this time just to say that I understood if he couldn't hang out, but wished that he would have at least told me. Still no response. As a last result I actually called and left him a voicemail today seeing if he was available next week. I figure if there is no response then I will have to suck it up, let it go, and learn from the mistake of letting myself have any type of feelings for a guy. At least this soon.
Due to the fact that I have been feeling rather in the dumps about Ryan's sudden silence, I have been trying to overwork my mojo to compensate. Last night, while at my local bar I spot two nerdy-but-adorable men. I can tell the taller of the two is interested in me, and I wasn't far off. We ended up playing darts, talking and holding hands throughout the night. By the time the bar closed, he was asking me to join them at another bar. When I declined he insisted on walking me home instead.
Once we reached my door, I expected the typical "So can I call you sometime?" This assumption is why I am still so very in the dark.
He gave me an awkward hug, smiled at me and said, "Until next time."
I am pretty sure I looked at him as if he suddenly grew a horn out of his forehead as I responded in disbelief, "Next time?" He just smiled again and nodded.
And then he walked away.
Oh! Okay, silly me! Of course, next time. When I decide to shine my batman like symbol into the sky so you know I would like to meet up again. What was I thinking being confused?
I am beginning to wonder how many men actually want to get to know a girl, or if they are just trying to build up their self esteem by getting a pretty girl to like them. I mean, what is the point in putting in so much effort only to say, "Well that was fun... but not fun enough that I want to ever see you again."
I suppose these are good things to have happen to me. Knocks me down a peg or two (because I have never been the full-of-herself kind of girl) and helps me remember that I am still very new to dating. And that's what is fun about it... the game is always changing.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Dry
It has been painfully too long since my last post, mainly due to the fact that things have been a bit slow in the dating department the past couple of weeks. I blame this to the shift in seasons. Spring and Summer are the months that are typically booming with sexual and romantic energy (notice I put sexual first?) not Autumn or Winter. Ideally, I was supposed to have found my mate during these peak months so I could hibernate with them through the cold and dreary ones.
However, 6 months into being single (today is actually the 6 month "anniversary" of my singlehood!) and I am still not convinced I am ready to hibernate with anyone other than myself. I will admit, at this point the novelty of it all has begun to fade- but rushing into something due to boredom is not exactly what I have in mind.
All of that aside, I have been continuing to see Ryan. After our wonderful skype/ first meeting, I went over to help him out with a case study he had to do for finals. He is studying Eastern Medicine, so by helping him I mean I got a free massage. Tough job, but I took one for the team.
After that he was busy for a bit, but I saw him last Thursday for a movie night curled up on his couch. He continues to be wonderfully deep, sweet, gentle and hilarious... not to mention dynamite in the sack. Everytime I see him, I end up with a huge smile across my face the entire way home.
And this is my current dilemma; I can tell that I am starting to actually like this guy- despite his short stature and the fact that my brain wants to fight this feeling with every ounce of energy it has. Call me afraid of committment and you wouldn't be too far off. In fact, I may even call you correct.
When I express this feeling to anyone I am close to, I typically get the same response: "Just go with it. It doesn't have to be anything serious. Just have a good time." Which is all well and good, except what if I do have a good time and end up falling for him? Am I REALLY ready for that?
I suppose I will just take the advice, and as soon as those ear to ear smiles dissapear, so will I. Who knows? Maybe I will surprise myself.
However, 6 months into being single (today is actually the 6 month "anniversary" of my singlehood!) and I am still not convinced I am ready to hibernate with anyone other than myself. I will admit, at this point the novelty of it all has begun to fade- but rushing into something due to boredom is not exactly what I have in mind.
All of that aside, I have been continuing to see Ryan. After our wonderful skype/ first meeting, I went over to help him out with a case study he had to do for finals. He is studying Eastern Medicine, so by helping him I mean I got a free massage. Tough job, but I took one for the team.
After that he was busy for a bit, but I saw him last Thursday for a movie night curled up on his couch. He continues to be wonderfully deep, sweet, gentle and hilarious... not to mention dynamite in the sack. Everytime I see him, I end up with a huge smile across my face the entire way home.
And this is my current dilemma; I can tell that I am starting to actually like this guy- despite his short stature and the fact that my brain wants to fight this feeling with every ounce of energy it has. Call me afraid of committment and you wouldn't be too far off. In fact, I may even call you correct.
When I express this feeling to anyone I am close to, I typically get the same response: "Just go with it. It doesn't have to be anything serious. Just have a good time." Which is all well and good, except what if I do have a good time and end up falling for him? Am I REALLY ready for that?
I suppose I will just take the advice, and as soon as those ear to ear smiles dissapear, so will I. Who knows? Maybe I will surprise myself.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Intensity squared
Seeing that John had given me such a polite and good first date, I decided to see him again. Monday night I went over to his place where we watched the Swedish version of "Girl with the Dragon Tattoo." It was a solid film (and I now understand why everyone and their mother has read the book) and afterward he proceeded to kiss me.
Let me just say this... he swirled his tongue in my mouth like a washing machine. Why? No one knows. Maybe it is something they like in Barbados or London... but to me it just felt like a sporadic tongue with a life of it's own. However, I got caught up in the moment. Plus; I am a kissing whore. I love to kiss. So we made out for awhile, and then he brought me home.
The next four days in a row he wanted to hang out again, which I declined. Not that the kissing was so terrible that it was a deal breaker- but it made me curious as to what kind of weird things he would do if I ever decided to sleep with him. Spin me around like I was on a merry-go-round? No thank you.
Enter Ryan, a deep philosophical boy with a funny side from Ohio. We had been talking online for a bit, and last night we decided to have our first date via Skype.
It went wonderful, and we ended up talking for 2 hours while making funny faces, cracking jokes (he is the first man to laugh at my "What did they 0 say to the 8" joke), and introducing each other to our pets. Seeing that it went so well we went ahead and scheduled a second date in person.
I met him tonight for drinks, where the conversation and laughter flowed like the booze surrounding us. We left the bar early and took a walk to the beach where we sat and admired the moon, what little stars were visible and the city. Kissing may or may not have happened.
We decided to go back to his apartment to have a dance party. Now, I don't know about any of you; but when I think dance party, I think of the running man and the shopping cart.
Not Ryan. He wanted to slow dance with me. He lit candles and slow danced with me. Who does that? I mean, really.
Needless to say... things heated up. Seriously, they were scorching.
If you know me well, you know that I don't prescribe to the whole concept of romance and things going perfectly in a relationship. There is no magic. There is no perfect first time.
I may be eating my words tonight...
There were more candles. There was music. And there was simultaneous... ahem... endings.
WHO DOES THAT?!!? I MEAN, REALLY??! On the first time? One fell swoop? It's impressive to say the least...
The only thing is, if the first time goes so perfectly- how could it get any better? And what would I really have to look forward to later on?
Is there such a thing as climaxing too soon?
Let me just say this... he swirled his tongue in my mouth like a washing machine. Why? No one knows. Maybe it is something they like in Barbados or London... but to me it just felt like a sporadic tongue with a life of it's own. However, I got caught up in the moment. Plus; I am a kissing whore. I love to kiss. So we made out for awhile, and then he brought me home.
The next four days in a row he wanted to hang out again, which I declined. Not that the kissing was so terrible that it was a deal breaker- but it made me curious as to what kind of weird things he would do if I ever decided to sleep with him. Spin me around like I was on a merry-go-round? No thank you.
Enter Ryan, a deep philosophical boy with a funny side from Ohio. We had been talking online for a bit, and last night we decided to have our first date via Skype.
It went wonderful, and we ended up talking for 2 hours while making funny faces, cracking jokes (he is the first man to laugh at my "What did they 0 say to the 8" joke), and introducing each other to our pets. Seeing that it went so well we went ahead and scheduled a second date in person.
I met him tonight for drinks, where the conversation and laughter flowed like the booze surrounding us. We left the bar early and took a walk to the beach where we sat and admired the moon, what little stars were visible and the city. Kissing may or may not have happened.
We decided to go back to his apartment to have a dance party. Now, I don't know about any of you; but when I think dance party, I think of the running man and the shopping cart.
Not Ryan. He wanted to slow dance with me. He lit candles and slow danced with me. Who does that? I mean, really.
Needless to say... things heated up. Seriously, they were scorching.
If you know me well, you know that I don't prescribe to the whole concept of romance and things going perfectly in a relationship. There is no magic. There is no perfect first time.
I may be eating my words tonight...
There were more candles. There was music. And there was simultaneous... ahem... endings.
WHO DOES THAT?!!? I MEAN, REALLY??! On the first time? One fell swoop? It's impressive to say the least...
The only thing is, if the first time goes so perfectly- how could it get any better? And what would I really have to look forward to later on?
Is there such a thing as climaxing too soon?
Friday, July 23, 2010
Out of my comfort zone- aka, in front of the computer screen
After being in a relationship for four years and suddenly being thrust into the adult dating pool is an odd feeling. There are so many things that I am curious about- one of which being online dating. Now, not to blow my own horn... but I don't NEED to be on a dating site. I can pick up a man the old fashioned way: when he is drunk at the bar.
My curiosity got the better of me recently and I signed up for "Plenty of Fish". I picked this site because it was free, which obviously ups my chances for freaks to contact me. Which a few have. I had a man tell me to "fuck off" within 24 hours. Mainly because I wasn't interested in him due to his poor spelling skills (he spelled Amish OMISH. Which not only makes him a poor speller, but also ignorant), although I am sure he had so much to offer if I had just looked past that.... damn.
Moving on.
I also had a man proposition me for sex by saying he would pay me $200 for 30 minutes of fun because I was so "smoking hot." What shocked me more was the fact that in his profile he stated that he had three younger sisters, so he knew a thing or two about how to treat a lady. Yep; every woman I know has always secretly dreamed of the day her prince charming would leap upon his white steed, ride over to her and throw money at her face while demanding a blow job.
Romance...
With that being said, I went against my best instinct and went out on my first online date tonight. John, 26, London England.
Not only did he have an accent that made me squeal with glee on the inside all night... but nothing went wrong. As I waited at the restaurant for him, I secretly hoped that he would turn out to be in his 50's or that he just lied about what he looked like (isn't that terrible?), but the guy checked out. He was funny, interesting, and a gentleman. He didn't try to slobber all over me or get me drunk.
So, the next big question is: why does that make me nervous?
My curiosity got the better of me recently and I signed up for "Plenty of Fish". I picked this site because it was free, which obviously ups my chances for freaks to contact me. Which a few have. I had a man tell me to "fuck off" within 24 hours. Mainly because I wasn't interested in him due to his poor spelling skills (he spelled Amish OMISH. Which not only makes him a poor speller, but also ignorant), although I am sure he had so much to offer if I had just looked past that.... damn.
Moving on.
I also had a man proposition me for sex by saying he would pay me $200 for 30 minutes of fun because I was so "smoking hot." What shocked me more was the fact that in his profile he stated that he had three younger sisters, so he knew a thing or two about how to treat a lady. Yep; every woman I know has always secretly dreamed of the day her prince charming would leap upon his white steed, ride over to her and throw money at her face while demanding a blow job.
Romance...
With that being said, I went against my best instinct and went out on my first online date tonight. John, 26, London England.
Not only did he have an accent that made me squeal with glee on the inside all night... but nothing went wrong. As I waited at the restaurant for him, I secretly hoped that he would turn out to be in his 50's or that he just lied about what he looked like (isn't that terrible?), but the guy checked out. He was funny, interesting, and a gentleman. He didn't try to slobber all over me or get me drunk.
So, the next big question is: why does that make me nervous?
Thursday, July 15, 2010
The Importance of Texting
I recently have found myself waist deep in a new type of relationship. Something with no strings, no drama, and very sexually charged.
I have found myself a "sexting" buddy.
I stumbled across said friend by no plan of my own. I have known him for years and just happened to run into him at a bar. We exchanged numbers and within six hours of doing so had started a digital love affair. Only dirtier.
To clear my record; I have never in my life done something like this. However, I have found that I really enjoy it for many reasons:
1) Safe sex. There is no worries of getting knocked up or diseased when your only contact is via phone.
2) Inhibitions are lost. With no actual face time, the things that I "say" sometimes surprise even myself...
3) Power. The amount of power I feel being able to turn a man on when we aren't even in the same area code is intense. And let's be honest, power is sexy.
4) Low maintenance. Listen, not that I don't take care of myself- but it is nice that I can have a good time without worrying about making sure my legs are shaved or if my lady is perfectly groomed. Just saying.
5) No awkward post-coitus moment. Nothing worse than that time span of five minutes (that feels like three hours) when you have just been intimate and are trying to devise your escape/ how to kick them out plan.
6) Sexual tension. Enough said I think.
My sexter seems to be enjoying himself as well, seeing that we have been texting one another for four solid days at this point. By the way that we both jumped head first into this bizaar situation, I feel as if we may get burnt out rather quickly. Luckily, I never really see him- so there is no fear of uncomfortable run-ins.
Either way, I think this is a win-win-win situation for all involved.
Namely me.
I have found myself a "sexting" buddy.
I stumbled across said friend by no plan of my own. I have known him for years and just happened to run into him at a bar. We exchanged numbers and within six hours of doing so had started a digital love affair. Only dirtier.
To clear my record; I have never in my life done something like this. However, I have found that I really enjoy it for many reasons:
1) Safe sex. There is no worries of getting knocked up or diseased when your only contact is via phone.
2) Inhibitions are lost. With no actual face time, the things that I "say" sometimes surprise even myself...
3) Power. The amount of power I feel being able to turn a man on when we aren't even in the same area code is intense. And let's be honest, power is sexy.
4) Low maintenance. Listen, not that I don't take care of myself- but it is nice that I can have a good time without worrying about making sure my legs are shaved or if my lady is perfectly groomed. Just saying.
5) No awkward post-coitus moment. Nothing worse than that time span of five minutes (that feels like three hours) when you have just been intimate and are trying to devise your escape/ how to kick them out plan.
6) Sexual tension. Enough said I think.
My sexter seems to be enjoying himself as well, seeing that we have been texting one another for four solid days at this point. By the way that we both jumped head first into this bizaar situation, I feel as if we may get burnt out rather quickly. Luckily, I never really see him- so there is no fear of uncomfortable run-ins.
Either way, I think this is a win-win-win situation for all involved.
Namely me.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Double Header
The excitement was building so much for my date with the 40 year old, that I did something I wouldn't normally do- go on a spontaneous mini-date with him the day before. We met up Thursday night to get Italian Ice and a couple of drinks. Afterward, we took a nice stroll through the neighborhood.
It was a pretty good date; and by the time I got home I was grinning ear to ear with anticipation for the next night.
And then it all went downhill. Fast.
First of all, the man loves to talk. About himself mainly. Although he would occasionally throw in some terrible antidotes about things that had happened to him that he thought hilarious. He would eagerly offer up these morsels and then look to me with a look on his face like a child who just found and brought home a stray dog.
I; sadly enough, would have to play the part of the parent who isn't interested at all. I'm sorry, but I just am not interested in listening to you talk for 45 minutes about all the "hysterical and wonderful" things you did when you were dressed up as Jesus for Halloween. Especially after you so falsely claimed that it was a better costume than Beetlejuice was. I. Think. Not.
I won't bore you with the rest of the conversations, because I wouldn't want to put anyone though the same pain I had to endure. Instead, I will give you two of the most unappealing quotes that anyone could hear on a date:
1) (Setup: We are sitting watching Dancing in the Park where the 40 year old decides to tell me about a bus tour through New Zealand he took. Apparently he sat at the front of the bus talking to the tour guide while everyone else sat in the back. After this statement I understand why.)
"I was farting a lot. And the tour guide said 'Stop man!' And I told him that it wasn't me. But there was no one else around, so it was totally me."
2) (Setup: We were having dinner.)
"I was talking to my brother and he brought up baby powder. I told him the last time that I had used baby powder, I was 8 and he was 2 and I was using the powder on his little scrotum and butt-hole."
Farting, scrotum AND butt-holes? Oh please tell me more! Nothing makes me swoon over a man faster than the subjects of passing gas and semi-vulgar terminology of what lies beneath a baby's diaper. At least he realized that the second topic probably wasn't something he should bring up in front of a girl or at dinner. But in his words, "Oh well."
How does one possibly end such a date, you may ask. And I have a one word answer to that: drunk.
It was the only thing that made him bearable. Not my most shining moment, to be sure... but I was a lot shinier than he. Point in case? He texted me the next day telling me how much he enjoyed our date and if he could see me again. I have yet to text back, and at this point I feel more than comfortable becoming the immature 24 year old who doesn't respond.
It was a pretty good date; and by the time I got home I was grinning ear to ear with anticipation for the next night.
And then it all went downhill. Fast.
First of all, the man loves to talk. About himself mainly. Although he would occasionally throw in some terrible antidotes about things that had happened to him that he thought hilarious. He would eagerly offer up these morsels and then look to me with a look on his face like a child who just found and brought home a stray dog.
I; sadly enough, would have to play the part of the parent who isn't interested at all. I'm sorry, but I just am not interested in listening to you talk for 45 minutes about all the "hysterical and wonderful" things you did when you were dressed up as Jesus for Halloween. Especially after you so falsely claimed that it was a better costume than Beetlejuice was. I. Think. Not.
I won't bore you with the rest of the conversations, because I wouldn't want to put anyone though the same pain I had to endure. Instead, I will give you two of the most unappealing quotes that anyone could hear on a date:
1) (Setup: We are sitting watching Dancing in the Park where the 40 year old decides to tell me about a bus tour through New Zealand he took. Apparently he sat at the front of the bus talking to the tour guide while everyone else sat in the back. After this statement I understand why.)
"I was farting a lot. And the tour guide said 'Stop man!' And I told him that it wasn't me. But there was no one else around, so it was totally me."
2) (Setup: We were having dinner.)
"I was talking to my brother and he brought up baby powder. I told him the last time that I had used baby powder, I was 8 and he was 2 and I was using the powder on his little scrotum and butt-hole."
Farting, scrotum AND butt-holes? Oh please tell me more! Nothing makes me swoon over a man faster than the subjects of passing gas and semi-vulgar terminology of what lies beneath a baby's diaper. At least he realized that the second topic probably wasn't something he should bring up in front of a girl or at dinner. But in his words, "Oh well."
How does one possibly end such a date, you may ask. And I have a one word answer to that: drunk.
It was the only thing that made him bearable. Not my most shining moment, to be sure... but I was a lot shinier than he. Point in case? He texted me the next day telling me how much he enjoyed our date and if he could see me again. I have yet to text back, and at this point I feel more than comfortable becoming the immature 24 year old who doesn't respond.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Homerun
My friend Tommy asked me to join him for a Sox game a few days ago. Seeing as it is summer, I disregarded the fact that I am typically a Cubbies fan and joined him. After a bit of tailgating with my friend Mike, a delcious pretzel, an awkward boy winking good bye at me, and eight innings of pure butt kicking (the Sox really did dominate) we decided to leave before the crowds were unleashed into the streets.
As we made our way to the train, I see a man out of the corner of my eye that catches my attention. The look on his face said that I had also caught his. He and his friend follow us closely all the way until I finally found a seat on the el platform. As we waited for the train and fireworks were being set off behind us (the Sox let off fireworks at a lot of their games) the man who caught my attention simply asks, "What? You don't like fireworks?"
This sparked a long conversation that lasted well past waiting for the train and continued through out our train ride back to the North Side. As my stop was nearing, he casually asked me for my number. I thought this was acceptable for four reasons. The first two are key- but I think that the second two are much more important:
1) I found him attractive.
2) I had been having fun talking to him.
3) As we were talking at one point, spittle flew out of my mouth like a rouge soldier and landed on my chin. I quickly tried to wipe it away without being obvious of what had just happened. He wasn't phased.
4) While on the train, I turned around to flash him a smile right as an old lady was moving forward. She totally decked me in the eye, causing it to water for about five minutes. This is what I get for trying to be cute and flirt- punched in the eye. Either way, we laughed it off and made a joke out of it. He did not seem alarmed by the fact that I could get beat up by a 72 year old.
He texted me back within an hour which suddenly turned into a phone conversation that lasted a remarkable three and a half hours. We set up a date for Friday, and I am rather excited about it.
Sounds perfect, right? Well... here's the kicker:
He's 40.
I'm 24.
That's a pretty huge age gap. Especially considering that he is closer to my mom's age by 5 years than to mine. Yes, I did the math, thank you for asking. You would too if you were in this situation. Moving on.
Last night, I lay awake wondering how much of an age gap is too large to cross? I have currently been thinking about trying to date someone close to 30... but 40? It seems like it could be dating suicide for both of us right off the bat.
I feel as if this type of questioning could be a deal breaker to a lot of people, but I think I am going to go ahead with the date and see what an older man has to offer. The worst thing that could happen is that I realize he really is too old for me or that we have nothing in common.
And honestly, how much different is that from going on a date with someone my own age?
As we made our way to the train, I see a man out of the corner of my eye that catches my attention. The look on his face said that I had also caught his. He and his friend follow us closely all the way until I finally found a seat on the el platform. As we waited for the train and fireworks were being set off behind us (the Sox let off fireworks at a lot of their games) the man who caught my attention simply asks, "What? You don't like fireworks?"
This sparked a long conversation that lasted well past waiting for the train and continued through out our train ride back to the North Side. As my stop was nearing, he casually asked me for my number. I thought this was acceptable for four reasons. The first two are key- but I think that the second two are much more important:
1) I found him attractive.
2) I had been having fun talking to him.
3) As we were talking at one point, spittle flew out of my mouth like a rouge soldier and landed on my chin. I quickly tried to wipe it away without being obvious of what had just happened. He wasn't phased.
4) While on the train, I turned around to flash him a smile right as an old lady was moving forward. She totally decked me in the eye, causing it to water for about five minutes. This is what I get for trying to be cute and flirt- punched in the eye. Either way, we laughed it off and made a joke out of it. He did not seem alarmed by the fact that I could get beat up by a 72 year old.
He texted me back within an hour which suddenly turned into a phone conversation that lasted a remarkable three and a half hours. We set up a date for Friday, and I am rather excited about it.
Sounds perfect, right? Well... here's the kicker:
He's 40.
I'm 24.
That's a pretty huge age gap. Especially considering that he is closer to my mom's age by 5 years than to mine. Yes, I did the math, thank you for asking. You would too if you were in this situation. Moving on.
Last night, I lay awake wondering how much of an age gap is too large to cross? I have currently been thinking about trying to date someone close to 30... but 40? It seems like it could be dating suicide for both of us right off the bat.
I feel as if this type of questioning could be a deal breaker to a lot of people, but I think I am going to go ahead with the date and see what an older man has to offer. The worst thing that could happen is that I realize he really is too old for me or that we have nothing in common.
And honestly, how much different is that from going on a date with someone my own age?
Friday, July 2, 2010
It's about to get X-rated
It has officially been a month since I have had a special visit with my dear friend; "The Bad Decision" as some weird things were said and done the last time I went over there. Mainly the fact that I (jokingly) asked if he was trying to get me pregnant and he just grinned.
OH HELL NO.
In order to make sure that I was in the safe zone, I made a slight promise with God that if he didn't make a baby grown inside of me, then I wouldn't sleep with "The Bad Decision" again. So far we have both kept our end of the deal.
To celebrate, I decided I would go see another friend of mine. We will call him "25". Not because of his age, per se, but because that is the percentage he racked up on "Nicole's List of Shallow Needs". He is an old friend who became a new kind of friend as soon as he moved to Chicago. And by "as soon as" I mean I helped him move his stuff into his apartment and then we did it in his unfurnished bedroom.
I digress; I haven't seen 25 in three months so I obviously had given up on him since he wasn't giving me the attention I wanted. You can imagine my surprise when he starts talking to me and
asking about my blog. He wants to know if he is any of the people on it.
Um... no, you haven't been around in a quarter of a year.
25 invites me over the next night. Why? I am pretty sure he wanted to be in my blog. And I go. Why? Because we have already established it had been a month since I had gotten laid.
The romp was satisfactory, and what 25 lacks in expertise (he is a couple years younger than me, after all) he makes up for in passion and spirit. I have never had a person try and flip me around like a circus acrobat quite as much as he does in the sack, which is always fun. Although sometimes a little dangerous.
Afterward, I made my trip home. For some reason I have gotten into this odd habit of staying the night with my special friends and that is obviously a hazard to my health as well as my sleeping patterns. Upon reflection, I realized that I was making a huge mistake and made sure
that my new rule is no sleeping over. Unless it's really late. Or I'm drunk. Or he has a sleep number bed.
It's always good to have some set boundaries, right?
OH HELL NO.
In order to make sure that I was in the safe zone, I made a slight promise with God that if he didn't make a baby grown inside of me, then I wouldn't sleep with "The Bad Decision" again. So far we have both kept our end of the deal.
To celebrate, I decided I would go see another friend of mine. We will call him "25". Not because of his age, per se, but because that is the percentage he racked up on "Nicole's List of Shallow Needs". He is an old friend who became a new kind of friend as soon as he moved to Chicago. And by "as soon as" I mean I helped him move his stuff into his apartment and then we did it in his unfurnished bedroom.
I digress; I haven't seen 25 in three months so I obviously had given up on him since he wasn't giving me the attention I wanted. You can imagine my surprise when he starts talking to me and
asking about my blog. He wants to know if he is any of the people on it.
Um... no, you haven't been around in a quarter of a year.
25 invites me over the next night. Why? I am pretty sure he wanted to be in my blog. And I go. Why? Because we have already established it had been a month since I had gotten laid.
The romp was satisfactory, and what 25 lacks in expertise (he is a couple years younger than me, after all) he makes up for in passion and spirit. I have never had a person try and flip me around like a circus acrobat quite as much as he does in the sack, which is always fun. Although sometimes a little dangerous.
Afterward, I made my trip home. For some reason I have gotten into this odd habit of staying the night with my special friends and that is obviously a hazard to my health as well as my sleeping patterns. Upon reflection, I realized that I was making a huge mistake and made sure
that my new rule is no sleeping over. Unless it's really late. Or I'm drunk. Or he has a sleep number bed.
It's always good to have some set boundaries, right?
Monday, June 28, 2010
Check and List
As I established in my last post, "A" is history. However, it was as if he could smell the rejection through the phone waves and he upped his game by texting and calling me several times over the next few days. There was nothing of importance in any of them; in fact, most of them consisted of him trying to make last minute plans- as if I didn't have anything else to do with my life but wait around for when he actually got his act together. Needless to say, I didn't respond.
However, it got me to thinking: it was hard for me to just shut "A" out, even though he was not what I wanted in a man. Why is that? Do I like a challenge? The attention? Is it the fact that I knew it wouldn't go anywhere, so I felt safe with that?
Maybe what I really need is a checklist of things to look for in a man. I know several women have something like this and can include things that are logical (Can protect me from the dangers of the night) and the profound (Would make a good father). I don't roll that way. So here I present to you; "Nicole's Shallow List of Needs":
1) He should be 6' or taller. Nothing is sexier than a man that towers over me and makes me feel like a woman.
2) He should have a banging body. In the past I have dated men skinnier than me or (in one specific case) had muscles AND a gut. "How does that work?" you may ask. My answer? "No fucking clue." This time around I want a man who has a stomach/ chest that makes me tremble when I look at it.
3) He should have an accent. Irish or English is preferred. However, the less I can understand the more appealing you become. Keeps that mystery alive.
4) He should know how to dress himself. More importantly, he should wear a suit (or business wear) to work. I'm not sure why, but a man in a good tie and dress slacks gets me every time. Which is why the commute to work in the morning is so much fun.
5) He should probably have dark hair. Although I don't discriminate against other hues.
6) He should look good enough with me that when we walk by everyone else feels a bubble of jealousy of how damn adorable we are- separate and together.
So, do me a favor and comb the streets of where you live to find this man. If he doesn't live in Chicago, that's okay- we can just use some sort of overnight-express-get-him-to-me-now shipping.
Until then, I will just keep entertaining myself with these jokers...
However, it got me to thinking: it was hard for me to just shut "A" out, even though he was not what I wanted in a man. Why is that? Do I like a challenge? The attention? Is it the fact that I knew it wouldn't go anywhere, so I felt safe with that?
Maybe what I really need is a checklist of things to look for in a man. I know several women have something like this and can include things that are logical (Can protect me from the dangers of the night) and the profound (Would make a good father). I don't roll that way. So here I present to you; "Nicole's Shallow List of Needs":
1) He should be 6' or taller. Nothing is sexier than a man that towers over me and makes me feel like a woman.
2) He should have a banging body. In the past I have dated men skinnier than me or (in one specific case) had muscles AND a gut. "How does that work?" you may ask. My answer? "No fucking clue." This time around I want a man who has a stomach/ chest that makes me tremble when I look at it.
3) He should have an accent. Irish or English is preferred. However, the less I can understand the more appealing you become. Keeps that mystery alive.
4) He should know how to dress himself. More importantly, he should wear a suit (or business wear) to work. I'm not sure why, but a man in a good tie and dress slacks gets me every time. Which is why the commute to work in the morning is so much fun.
5) He should probably have dark hair. Although I don't discriminate against other hues.
6) He should look good enough with me that when we walk by everyone else feels a bubble of jealousy of how damn adorable we are- separate and together.
So, do me a favor and comb the streets of where you live to find this man. If he doesn't live in Chicago, that's okay- we can just use some sort of overnight-express-get-him-to-me-now shipping.
Until then, I will just keep entertaining myself with these jokers...
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
"A" stands for annoying, aggrivating, absurd, etc.
After the weirdness of "A's" voice mail last night, I decided to take matters into my own hands. I opted for texting, although as impersonal as a date in public (according to Mike from the Passion Pit Show) it would protect me from straining to understand his mumbling over the phone and listening to him sound like he was getting kicked in the gut repeatedly. However, there was no way I could anticipate the difficulty of getting a man who has tried to contact me three times within four days to ask me out. The text conversation follows:
Me: Sorry I missed ur call yesterday. Was out w my friend.
A: I'm glad you survived the storm :)
Me: Yeah it was a pretty nasty one
A: I remember u mentioning u were going out, how are you?
Me: I'm doing well. and how are you this fine evening?
A: Yes it was, well we got some fresh air now... (I mean, who doesn't comment on the freshness of the air via text?)
A: I'm good, just a little mad I couldn't finish my soccer game :(. Yes it turn out a really nice evening.
Me: Why couldn't you finish it?
A: I was actually gonna call but I thought u might be busy, when can I see you? If possible...:) (SUCCESS!)
A: It was outdoors and the storm just dropped on us! :(
Me: I'm sorry to hear that. It would be great to get together... possibly this weekend?
A: That sounds good, how was your day? (Excuse me? That's it? Are you KIDDING ME?)
Me: Nothing too eventful. So did you want to make plans?
13 minutes later...
A: Yes I do want to
Me: (SCREAMING IN MY HEAD)
A: I'd like that...:)
Me: (GASPING FOR AIR)
Me: Well? Pick a time or something
A: Ok, I'm pretty open as far as time. I don't really know what u like to do so I could use some help... if you don't mind?
Me: Saturday? Dinner? Or maybe a movie?
34 minutes later...
A: Sounds good! I'm off to bed good night.
SERIOUSLY?
Moral of the story? I choose option "B", whatever that is. There is no point in wasting any more of my time with a man who can't even set a time to see me.
Me: Sorry I missed ur call yesterday. Was out w my friend.
A: I'm glad you survived the storm :)
Me: Yeah it was a pretty nasty one
A: I remember u mentioning u were going out, how are you?
Me: I'm doing well. and how are you this fine evening?
A: Yes it was, well we got some fresh air now... (I mean, who doesn't comment on the freshness of the air via text?)
A: I'm good, just a little mad I couldn't finish my soccer game :(. Yes it turn out a really nice evening.
Me: Why couldn't you finish it?
A: I was actually gonna call but I thought u might be busy, when can I see you? If possible...:) (SUCCESS!)
A: It was outdoors and the storm just dropped on us! :(
Me: I'm sorry to hear that. It would be great to get together... possibly this weekend?
A: That sounds good, how was your day? (Excuse me? That's it? Are you KIDDING ME?)
Me: Nothing too eventful. So did you want to make plans?
13 minutes later...
A: Yes I do want to
Me: (SCREAMING IN MY HEAD)
A: I'd like that...:)
Me: (GASPING FOR AIR)
Me: Well? Pick a time or something
A: Ok, I'm pretty open as far as time. I don't really know what u like to do so I could use some help... if you don't mind?
Me: Saturday? Dinner? Or maybe a movie?
34 minutes later...
A: Sounds good! I'm off to bed good night.
SERIOUSLY?
Moral of the story? I choose option "B", whatever that is. There is no point in wasting any more of my time with a man who can't even set a time to see me.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Mixed messages
Today, my good friend Susan took me out for a late birthday celebration. We first stopped at an Ethiopian restaurant for an early dinner and then to see an adult close up magic show at the wine bar, "In Fine Spirits". As we were leaving dinner, I happened to check my phone to see I had a voice mail. Upon further inspection I saw that the missed call had indeed been from none other than "A". Here I think, "Wow! Twice in two days! He must have called to finally ask me out!" When I actually got to listening to the message it was such a mess of mumbling and incoherent sounds that I had to listen to it several (four to be exact) times before being able to piece together what he was actually saying. The message was as follows:
"Hey Nicole it's David (ah! So I WAS right about his name!) How are you? Ummmm... ummmm... (stuttering) I just wanted to call and say hi and talk to you a little bit. I don't know if you watch uh soccer at all or if you even like soccer or if you are following, you know, the World Cup... I think we talked about it a little but I guess it wasn't really clear if you were following it... ugggh. Just a little sad and disappointed that Mexico lost... hopefully, you know, we will make it (Here he lets out a huge guttural sigh that sounds like he is dying inside). Okay, um, well, I don't want to bother you- you must be busy so when I get around to it, I will talk to you later. Have a good day."
First sweating and now the World Cup? What will tomorrow's topic be? His favorite breakfast cereal?
Honestly, I understand that he is nervous... but why keep putting himself into this situation? Why not ask me out? Or not leave awkwardly long voice mails about nothing? I am certain that if there were a World Cup of talking too much and doing too little, "A" would win almost every game.
Going to the other end of the spectrum, I decided that I would go and see Devil's Snare recently. I can't disclose too much information in case he somehow stumbles upon this, but I will say that DS was as irresistible and frustrating to me as always. He also gives me a bout of word vomit that makes me talk about him against my best will to everyone from my best friend Kaylie to the random guy who may be able to give me some perspective on the one question that always riddles my mind when it comes to him: "Why?"
"Hey Nicole it's David (ah! So I WAS right about his name!) How are you? Ummmm... ummmm... (stuttering) I just wanted to call and say hi and talk to you a little bit. I don't know if you watch uh soccer at all or if you even like soccer or if you are following, you know, the World Cup... I think we talked about it a little but I guess it wasn't really clear if you were following it... ugggh. Just a little sad and disappointed that Mexico lost... hopefully, you know, we will make it (Here he lets out a huge guttural sigh that sounds like he is dying inside). Okay, um, well, I don't want to bother you- you must be busy so when I get around to it, I will talk to you later. Have a good day."
First sweating and now the World Cup? What will tomorrow's topic be? His favorite breakfast cereal?
Honestly, I understand that he is nervous... but why keep putting himself into this situation? Why not ask me out? Or not leave awkwardly long voice mails about nothing? I am certain that if there were a World Cup of talking too much and doing too little, "A" would win almost every game.
Going to the other end of the spectrum, I decided that I would go and see Devil's Snare recently. I can't disclose too much information in case he somehow stumbles upon this, but I will say that DS was as irresistible and frustrating to me as always. He also gives me a bout of word vomit that makes me talk about him against my best will to everyone from my best friend Kaylie to the random guy who may be able to give me some perspective on the one question that always riddles my mind when it comes to him: "Why?"
Monday, June 21, 2010
Like Flavor Flav, handing out chains...
The past four months have been a whirlwind- plain and simple. Nothing get's this girl's blood pumping like being able to officially do whatever she wants with whomever she wants. A few heavy hitters:
The Bad Decision.
Blue Eyes.
Devil's Snare. (This person did not originally have a nickname... but I think it is fitting and hilarious)
In my brief stint in single hood, I have already experienced a man with a penis the size of a pinky (but didn't seem bothered by it); a grown man who begged to sleep on my futon when I told him I wouldn't sleep with him (who was also deceivingly balding); a charming drunk man who asked his elderly cohort if he should, "Get with me" that night (the elderly cohort said yes. I told them it wasn't up to either of them); and a dancing boy at a concert who became enraged when I wouldn't go over to his apartment to watch movies instead of go on a real date with him ("Going out to eat at a restaurant is so IMPERSONAL." -sadly a real quote).
Amazingly none of them got past the "Oh, I put your number into my phone as your first name with an place/description so I knew who you were" stage. And no worries... all such numbers have been deleted, lest I have a few and decide it would be funny to text "Drunk Kevin" or "Nick Mayfest".
Most recently I went Salsa dancing for a friend's birthday party where I met, danced with and exchanged numbers with a man who I am pretty sure said his name was David. However, with drink in hand I somehow managed to save his number under "A". Now "A" is probably late 20's, of some Hispanic origin, and has a baby mole under his nose that just makes me think of Enrique Iglesias. He is also in construction, so very heavily muscled- which is fine with me. He seemed sweet enough, and he texted me the whole night. Two days later he calls me at one in the afternoon. Weird, but whatever. He talks about some random things including sweating- which I think odd... but forgive (maybe he is just nervous, not a total weirdo?). Twenty minutes later I tell him I must get off the phone and let him know that if he ever wants to get together to let me know. His response isn't to set up a date, but to inform me that "That is one of the reasons he asked for my number." Ooookay, and what were the other reasons?
"A" may not be "A-okay"... but he hasn't done anything super creepy or offensive yet, so I don't think I will add him to the delete list for now. Plus, he did have a really good body...
The Bad Decision.
Blue Eyes.
Devil's Snare. (This person did not originally have a nickname... but I think it is fitting and hilarious)
In my brief stint in single hood, I have already experienced a man with a penis the size of a pinky (but didn't seem bothered by it); a grown man who begged to sleep on my futon when I told him I wouldn't sleep with him (who was also deceivingly balding); a charming drunk man who asked his elderly cohort if he should, "Get with me" that night (the elderly cohort said yes. I told them it wasn't up to either of them); and a dancing boy at a concert who became enraged when I wouldn't go over to his apartment to watch movies instead of go on a real date with him ("Going out to eat at a restaurant is so IMPERSONAL." -sadly a real quote).
Amazingly none of them got past the "Oh, I put your number into my phone as your first name with an place/description so I knew who you were" stage. And no worries... all such numbers have been deleted, lest I have a few and decide it would be funny to text "Drunk Kevin" or "Nick Mayfest".
Most recently I went Salsa dancing for a friend's birthday party where I met, danced with and exchanged numbers with a man who I am pretty sure said his name was David. However, with drink in hand I somehow managed to save his number under "A". Now "A" is probably late 20's, of some Hispanic origin, and has a baby mole under his nose that just makes me think of Enrique Iglesias. He is also in construction, so very heavily muscled- which is fine with me. He seemed sweet enough, and he texted me the whole night. Two days later he calls me at one in the afternoon. Weird, but whatever. He talks about some random things including sweating- which I think odd... but forgive (maybe he is just nervous, not a total weirdo?). Twenty minutes later I tell him I must get off the phone and let him know that if he ever wants to get together to let me know. His response isn't to set up a date, but to inform me that "That is one of the reasons he asked for my number." Ooookay, and what were the other reasons?
"A" may not be "A-okay"... but he hasn't done anything super creepy or offensive yet, so I don't think I will add him to the delete list for now. Plus, he did have a really good body...
This used to be me...
"The man whom I live with and have been with for three years is often busy. He leaves me almost every night to fall asleep on a couch in front of an unresponsive television set and loneliness. When he arrives home, he wakes me up to go into the bedroom and then falls asleep on the couch himself. I sleep alone, tossing and turning, waiting for him.
I moved to Chicago years ago, but all of the friends I made here have disappeared one by one, deeming me not important enough to make the effort for. It makes for lonely hours full of crying alone. No one should ever have to cry alone, yet it seems the most effective when all you want is to focus on pain. I choose to cry in the shower. I mix my tears with water and make a heartache cocktail to enjoy on my own. They are bitter, but I always ask for more.
I can't help but to get drunk on my own self-pity."
It's hard to believe that I wrote this post in secrecy just a little over a year ago. It is hard for me to read and to know that at one point I felt so trapped, so lonely and so lost. I am now putting it into the public light so I don't forget about it. I never want to put myself into another situation where I feel as I did back then.
The rest of my posts will be no where near as heavy, I promise you. I want to thank you for joining me on this transformation process and all the hilarity of plunging myself back into the single's pool that will follow.
I moved to Chicago years ago, but all of the friends I made here have disappeared one by one, deeming me not important enough to make the effort for. It makes for lonely hours full of crying alone. No one should ever have to cry alone, yet it seems the most effective when all you want is to focus on pain. I choose to cry in the shower. I mix my tears with water and make a heartache cocktail to enjoy on my own. They are bitter, but I always ask for more.
I can't help but to get drunk on my own self-pity."
It's hard to believe that I wrote this post in secrecy just a little over a year ago. It is hard for me to read and to know that at one point I felt so trapped, so lonely and so lost. I am now putting it into the public light so I don't forget about it. I never want to put myself into another situation where I feel as I did back then.
The rest of my posts will be no where near as heavy, I promise you. I want to thank you for joining me on this transformation process and all the hilarity of plunging myself back into the single's pool that will follow.
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