"International" dating- part one

Okay, so maybe it is about ONE fun, cheap, easy hook up. Let's preface this with: When LL first left me it felt like I had been punched in the gut. I decided the best thing to do was to find something- ahem- someone.. to take my mind off of him. Enter Cocky. I had actually met Cocky several times in the past, but he really showed his true colors at a birthday party for a dear and mutual friend. After many drinks, he approached me to dance. By approach, I obviously mean he attached himself behind me and proceeded to try and grind on me. Every woman's dream. Still, I found him cute and my friend only had good things to say, so I firted with him. Half was through the night, he looked at me with glazed eyes, "Hey... what's your name?" I informed him that I had already told him my name several times. To just think, it started with an "N". "Hmmm... is it... Narnia?" No sir, I was not named after C.S. Lewis' classic. Later, Cocky would saunter up to me, put his elbow on the table and stare me down. "You are so lucky." When I asked why, he put his arm around me as he said, "Because there is a good chance I might go down on you tonight." Charming. Against all good judgement, I exchanged numbers with him. I quickly knew it was trouble, as all our conversations focused on the subtext of sex. Every statement had a hidden meaning behind it. After one particularly good Hawks game and one too many fireball shots, I decide to maek my move. Within 20 minutes we are at a bar getting a night cap, which quickly turns into us going back to his condo. Now, I had no intention of sleeping with him... but as we all know- sometimes intentions can be bullshit. I tried to let Cocky know I wasn't going to sleep with him by shouting that statement at him often and loudly. Once even while removing my shirt. Unfortunatly, drunk Nicole won that round and bad choices were made. Three times. The saddest part was I wasn't even enjoying myself. I was too dissappointed by my actions to fully have a good time with Cocky... not to mention that a very blatent stereotype that my mother warned me about was right. I will not repeat said stereotype, because I am a classy lady. But it did have to do with his nationality and what he was packing underneath those boxer briefs. The next mornnig we walked to the corner together, kissed goodbye and went our seperate ways (him to work, me to shower the night off of me). As I walked away I knew those would be the last words we said to one another. And I wasn't upset, I was ready to move onto better things.

Update! Update!

It has been nearly three years since my last post. It's been three years since I lived the summer in which I felt in control of the world around me, a femme fatale of sorts who had a whirl of possibilities surrounding me. Oh, how things have changed. But let's back up... last I wrote I had met a guy in a chance beer pong pairing. While this encounter held so much promise, it was actually the beginning of the end. The end of my trust. The end of my confidence. The end of who I had always been. "R" and I dated for two years, and it became an unhealthy cycle of pure joy, love, him cheating on me, me questioning what I could have done so wrong, and eventually forgiveness on my part. After each of these cycles I would sit and wonder why I kept giving him chance after chance. I would ponder if this is what true love was: living and forgiving through the hurt. When I finally realized that there were much bigger issues at hand (mainly addictions), I stood my ground and let the love I had inside of me guide the way. There were some dark days, that's for sure- but there were days of such blinding lovely light that I stuck with it. We planned on getting married. He had already asked my brother's permission and we had picked out a ring (which I would look up online several times a day, imagining it on my finger). It took a huge fight at Emma's wedding to shake me to my core and realize that no matter if he stayed faithful, no matter if he gave up his vices....he would never love or respect me the way I deserved. So; as I filtered "R" out of my life, I did what I had truly been wanting to do for nine years: I called "Lost love" and fully invited him into my life. Life began to blur into something surreal. LL had just moved into the city, a mere mile from my own house and I flooded him with all the yearning I had been holding onto for nearly a decade. I flung the leftover love from "R" at his feet. I attached the misplaced affection for the friends and family I had gained (and now lost) onto him. He was everything I had ever wanted, needed, and looked for. I knew in my heart that there was a reason why I had held onto the shadow of him for so long... and that was to be with him so completely now. LL warned me with words that he did not want a relationship- I accepted that as "he didn't want labels", for we quickly spent every moment possible together. We would wake each morning tangled in each others embraces. We would meet each others brothers. We would tell each other "I love you." I had never felt so at ease and at peace in my life. It was if I was filled with so much happiness I could burst at any moment. And then; a week after my birthday, he began to pull away. When asked, he would answer that he needed more time to himself. That he had to figure himself out. But the truth is it wants someone more "put together" than myself. Someone he won't describe as "crazy." At this moment, I do feel crazy. I feel like every choice I have made has been self-destructive and all the love I have tried to offer has been swatted away like a bothersome fly. The light I used to carry inside of me like a torch has been put out, extinguished by the constant questioning and doubt of: "What is wrong with me?" and "Why can't I be loved back?" I have always heard that the first step to recovering yourself is to identify the source... the need. I long for someone to love me greatly, but continually pick the wrong type of men to satisfy this. From here I will say: no more. I am determined to love myself enough to give myself better. This is no longer about fun, cheap, and easy hook ups. This is about my life.

Crazy Lions

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.

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.

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.

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?"

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.