Saturday. I had a miniature golf date with The Highlander in the evening, but first, a little softball. After a few hours of good, old-fashioned competition, I was nice and sweaty, and had a nice layer of dirt covering my body. Ahhh, satisfaction. Post softball, I generally head over to a nearby bar/restaurant to hang out with some of the guys (and occasionally girls).
On this particular Saturday, I hitched a ride with an incredibly good-looking former soap opera actor. (which should tell you how good-looking he is, they don't let ugly people anywhere near soap operas.) The soap opera actor (let's call him Duke Logan, shall we? That just sounds like someone who resides in Port Charles or Pine Valley...) and I have some chemistry. It's kind of obvious to everyone, including our Saturday umpire, who cracked a joke about a possible love connection during the game when I was yelling "No batta, no batta, no batta" when Duke came up to bat. He's ridiculously good-looking, drives a completely impractical sporty car (it doesn't even have a back seat!) and is "attracted to athletic women." (His words.) Perfect, right? EHHHHH! He's old. We were born in different decades, and not even adjacent ones. Damn.
Anyway, while at the bar, he was sitting between me and an older, more age-appropriate woman, who was definitely sizing me up as competition. It was getting a bit late, and I really needed to get home so I could shower for my date with the Highlander, but Duke Logan was also my ride home, and he didn't appear to be leaving soon. When I mentioned that I should get going, the Umpire said, "What, do you have a date or something?"
Unfortunately, every emotion or thought I ever have is written on my face for all the world to see. (Which is why I would be incapable of fuckwittage of the leading someone on variety, because everyone always knows exactly what I'm thinking.) This is a real disadvantage when guys I would rather not share my private life with ask me a point-blank question about it. Within seconds the entire table was grilling me on my date and plans for the evening, asking where we were going so they could come check up on us. Except Duke Logan, who turned his complete and undivided attention to the other woman.
While this was going on, the clock kept ticking, and it got later. I already had a voicemail from The Highlander wondering what time we were going out, so I excused myself and called him up. Duke was continuing to drink, and he was really digging the other woman, so I didn't really have much of a choice. I asked The Highlander to come pick me up. He didn't seem to mind at all (it was to his advantage, otherwise we weren't going anywhere together for awhile), but I did tell him that under no circumstances was he to enter the restaurant premises. He was to call me when he hit the street, and I would jump in his car. If he came in, I would never hear the end of it. He did, and I apologized for having dirt all over me. He told me it was cute. (Later, I told Scarlet I didn't know what to wear, and she pointed out that if he thinks I'm cute with dirt, does it really matter what I wear? Point taken.)
During Monday post-softball bar time, Duke did let me know that the other woman and he ended up hanging out that evening, and just as they were about to kiss, she blurted out that she had a boyfriend. He was pissed. And even if he is too old for me, I think he'll be a cool hang out guy (of the non-physical variety, of course.)
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Friday, July 24, 2009
Long Live the Queen!
I've done it. After years of repeating the mantra and failing miserably, I have finally done it. I've achieved the perfect aloof, cool, ice queen status. I don't mean to brag, but this is quite an accomplishment. This is a goal I've been working toward for a long time. All those times I called Scarlet in order to avoid calling The Man of the Moment have really paid off. I. am. an. ice. queen.
With The Highlander, I've kept up a pretty good facade of iciness, giving him just enough warmth to keep coming back for more. (You don't want to overdo it, you know, that will backfire.) I've kept busy with other things, I've ended dates before he was ready, and I've done a good job of calling sparingly (mostly only to return one of his calls, with a few unprovoked calls here and there for good measure).
Last night, my reign as ice queen peaked. After stumbling home in the wee hours of the morning Sunday night (er, Monday morning) from The Highlander's apartment, I was unexcusably groggy the following morning at work. In order to prevent this from happening again, I actually set an alarm on my watch to go off at 11pm. When the alarm went off, I would go home, solidifying my status as an aloof ice queen and ensuring I wouldn't fall asleep in class the next day. It worked like a charm. The alarm went off (I had already warned The Highlander that he was on the clock, so it wasn't much of a shock), and even though I really, really didn't want to (he had gotten out his guitar again) I got up and went home. But, like I said, you have to give him a little something, so I told him that since I was calling it a night early last night, that on Saturday I wouldn't have a curfew. He was in full support of that.
Not to toot my own horn, but I fully expect to be contacted shortly to write a book called "How to be an Ice Queen" or "The Idiot's Guide to Being an Ice Queen," or even "Ice Queens for Dummies."
With The Highlander, I've kept up a pretty good facade of iciness, giving him just enough warmth to keep coming back for more. (You don't want to overdo it, you know, that will backfire.) I've kept busy with other things, I've ended dates before he was ready, and I've done a good job of calling sparingly (mostly only to return one of his calls, with a few unprovoked calls here and there for good measure).
Last night, my reign as ice queen peaked. After stumbling home in the wee hours of the morning Sunday night (er, Monday morning) from The Highlander's apartment, I was unexcusably groggy the following morning at work. In order to prevent this from happening again, I actually set an alarm on my watch to go off at 11pm. When the alarm went off, I would go home, solidifying my status as an aloof ice queen and ensuring I wouldn't fall asleep in class the next day. It worked like a charm. The alarm went off (I had already warned The Highlander that he was on the clock, so it wasn't much of a shock), and even though I really, really didn't want to (he had gotten out his guitar again) I got up and went home. But, like I said, you have to give him a little something, so I told him that since I was calling it a night early last night, that on Saturday I wouldn't have a curfew. He was in full support of that.
Not to toot my own horn, but I fully expect to be contacted shortly to write a book called "How to be an Ice Queen" or "The Idiot's Guide to Being an Ice Queen," or even "Ice Queens for Dummies."
Monday, July 20, 2009
...And he's back in the game
No, The Highlander didn't kill a spider last night, but two things happened to send his stock soaring.
1. He got a kitten. A beyond adorable itty bitty kitty. A kitten with extra toes so that his front paws look like little mittens. He loves me already. (The cat, not The Highlander.)
2. He got out his guitar. I knew The Highlander could play, and he has two guitars on display in his grown-ups apartment, but last night was the first time he actually played something for me. And it was stuff he had written. And better yet, it didn't suck. Men with guitars are hot. It was all I could do not to jump him right then and there, but I did manage to restrain myself.
When we finally did commence with the post-guitar playing make-out session, I was trying to figure out how to very discreetly unbutton the top buttons to my shirt, since obviously undoing them would damage my cool, aloof, ice queen status. (And believe me, I have the ice queen thing working in my favor right now. I will not relinquish power!) Apparently thinking hard enough about it was all I needed, because it wasn't long before I realized that they had magically opened. If he had any kind of hand in this, then he must be like Joey on Friends, when he opened up Phoebe's shirt without ripping off any of the buttons.
And just like that The Highlander is a serious contender yet again.
1. He got a kitten. A beyond adorable itty bitty kitty. A kitten with extra toes so that his front paws look like little mittens. He loves me already. (The cat, not The Highlander.)
2. He got out his guitar. I knew The Highlander could play, and he has two guitars on display in his grown-ups apartment, but last night was the first time he actually played something for me. And it was stuff he had written. And better yet, it didn't suck. Men with guitars are hot. It was all I could do not to jump him right then and there, but I did manage to restrain myself.
When we finally did commence with the post-guitar playing make-out session, I was trying to figure out how to very discreetly unbutton the top buttons to my shirt, since obviously undoing them would damage my cool, aloof, ice queen status. (And believe me, I have the ice queen thing working in my favor right now. I will not relinquish power!) Apparently thinking hard enough about it was all I needed, because it wasn't long before I realized that they had magically opened. If he had any kind of hand in this, then he must be like Joey on Friends, when he opened up Phoebe's shirt without ripping off any of the buttons.
And just like that The Highlander is a serious contender yet again.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
What good are you?
The Highlander's status as Man of the Moment may possibly be in jeopardy, and here's why. Last weekend, I came home to find a giant cockroach in my bathroom. I hate, hate, hate killing bugs. It's not that I want them around, but I find that listening to the crunch and seeing the splattered guts of the dead bug is even worse than the live bug. I've gotten better about it over the years, since living alone doesn't leave much or a choice, but I knew The Highlander would be around soon to pick me up for our date that evening, so I decided to leave the cockroach where he was and have the man do the squishing.
The Highlander came over just after my roommate got home. He went into the bathroom... and stared at the bug for a little while. I explained to my roommate what was going on, and she went into the bathroom to have a look. I stayed away, because as I said, I have zero interest in witnessing the killing of a giant cockroach. Since I was not in the bathroom, I can't be exactly sure of the events that transpired, but I'm pretty sure it was my roommate that carried out the execution. I think The Highlander transferred the bug from the wall to the shower (as it's easier to clean bug guts off a shower wall than an actual wall), but then didn't seem to be in much of a hurry to take care of business, so my roommate took off her shoe and flattened the bug while yelling for me to come take a look.
So why does this mean The Highlander is in trouble? Men are good for two things, and one of them is bug killing. The rest, quite frankly, I can get from my girlfriends. I haven't really seen much of him at all since then, as I have been busy since with baseball and softball and wizard movies, so he hasn't really had a chance to redeem himself. But I will see him tonight, and what he needs is to a. kill a spider or something and b. that other thing that men are good for, and he's back in the game.
The Highlander came over just after my roommate got home. He went into the bathroom... and stared at the bug for a little while. I explained to my roommate what was going on, and she went into the bathroom to have a look. I stayed away, because as I said, I have zero interest in witnessing the killing of a giant cockroach. Since I was not in the bathroom, I can't be exactly sure of the events that transpired, but I'm pretty sure it was my roommate that carried out the execution. I think The Highlander transferred the bug from the wall to the shower (as it's easier to clean bug guts off a shower wall than an actual wall), but then didn't seem to be in much of a hurry to take care of business, so my roommate took off her shoe and flattened the bug while yelling for me to come take a look.
So why does this mean The Highlander is in trouble? Men are good for two things, and one of them is bug killing. The rest, quite frankly, I can get from my girlfriends. I haven't really seen much of him at all since then, as I have been busy since with baseball and softball and wizard movies, so he hasn't really had a chance to redeem himself. But I will see him tonight, and what he needs is to a. kill a spider or something and b. that other thing that men are good for, and he's back in the game.
Friday, July 17, 2009
The Boys of Summer
As Grayer and I have mentioned before, we are serious sports fans, particularly baseball. But just because you're not a sports fan (Scarlet) doesn't mean you can't enjoy watching. The eye candy is even sweeter when we're talking about professional athletes. Mostly because if they've got the looks, they've got the professionaly trained body to go with it. Yum. my. Soccer players are awfully nice to look at, but for our money, the boys of summer still bring the heat. Maybe it’s because we grew up watching baseball, but there is no hotter athlete than a ball player. A slower paced game and lack of facemasks allow this sport to be perfect for eye candy viewing. Combine that with the form fitting pants and the ball caps, and the commentators are right, it is twenty degrees hotter on the field.
And now our All-Hot team: The hottest players at each position for your viewing pleasure. *Note- this list WILL NOT include Derek Jeter or Alex Rodriguez, as they are not only cliche', but members of The Evil Empire and therefore not at all attractive.
OF: Grady Sizemore, Indians- The ladies love Grady for a reason.
OF: Jacoby Ellsbury, Red Sox- Has the women of Sox Nation all atwitter.
OF: Curtis Granderson, Tigers- Already delving into television work, and why not? He's got the look for it.
C: Joe Mauer, Twins- The captain of the all-hot team.
P: Barry Zito, Giants- Once dated Alyssa Milano. Lucky lady.
3B: Evan Longoria, Rays- Not to be confused with Eva.
2B: Chase Utley, Phillies- Cole Hamels seems to get all the attention, but I'll take Utley any day.
1B: Bobby Crosby, A's- He's the one on the right, but we'll take the one on the left, too. (Huston Street)
SS: JJ Hardy, Brewers- The Brewers were close to having several players on this list, they could be The Team to Watch in the second half.
And then there's this guy, who despite being one of the greatest pitchers ever, will never, ever, make one of these lists.
And now our All-Hot team: The hottest players at each position for your viewing pleasure. *Note- this list WILL NOT include Derek Jeter or Alex Rodriguez, as they are not only cliche', but members of The Evil Empire and therefore not at all attractive.
OF: Grady Sizemore, Indians- The ladies love Grady for a reason.
OF: Jacoby Ellsbury, Red Sox- Has the women of Sox Nation all atwitter.
OF: Curtis Granderson, Tigers- Already delving into television work, and why not? He's got the look for it.
C: Joe Mauer, Twins- The captain of the all-hot team.
P: Barry Zito, Giants- Once dated Alyssa Milano. Lucky lady.
3B: Evan Longoria, Rays- Not to be confused with Eva.
2B: Chase Utley, Phillies- Cole Hamels seems to get all the attention, but I'll take Utley any day.
1B: Bobby Crosby, A's- He's the one on the right, but we'll take the one on the left, too. (Huston Street)
SS: JJ Hardy, Brewers- The Brewers were close to having several players on this list, they could be The Team to Watch in the second half.
And then there's this guy, who despite being one of the greatest pitchers ever, will never, ever, make one of these lists.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
The mutual friend
We've been hanging out for 6 months, never talk about our relationship, and get along pretty well, but we don't really click click. He doesn't always get my sense of humor, I can get annoyed by his antics, and let's not even start on his lack of ballsiness on the physical front. One thing I've truly gained from this pseudo-relationship is meeting new people in the form of his friends. One friend inpaticular. I met The Mutual Friend a couple months ago and he immediately reminded me of someone I hated. Not only his looks but his voice, mannerisms and personality screamed of an old coworker that I never cared for from the very beginning. But this guys is different, I actually like him. Really really like him.
What can I say? We click. It was him that made me have a good time at a party. It was him that was a ton of fun on my birthday outing. He's the one that will come out to my house just for lunch. He's the one who I tell stories about to my roommate. It was he who introduced me to the three wolves shirt. We've hung out in groups as well as alone and it's always been filled with witty banter, humor and good conversation. He gets me and I get him. I like him so much that you might think I have a crush on him, but you'd be wrong.
We all know that I loooooove boys, but I am just not attracted to this one whatsoever (not that he's unattractive). He's skinny. He's clean shaven. He's uptight. He only wears collared shirts. He was an economy major. He doesn't like getting dirty. He neatly eats pancakes (and BBQ ribs) with a fork and knife (I know!). I like manly men, bigger than me with beards and no financial stability. Who care less about mud on their shoes and has a harder time getting BBQ sauce off their face and fingers than I do.
It's strange I get along with someone so unlike myself so well, but the MF and I have definitly thought of a combination of the two guys would be great. A hybrid of HOG and the Mutual Friend, now there's a man I could really get on board with. (Why is "Dream On" currently playing in the background?)
What can I say? We click. It was him that made me have a good time at a party. It was him that was a ton of fun on my birthday outing. He's the one that will come out to my house just for lunch. He's the one who I tell stories about to my roommate. It was he who introduced me to the three wolves shirt. We've hung out in groups as well as alone and it's always been filled with witty banter, humor and good conversation. He gets me and I get him. I like him so much that you might think I have a crush on him, but you'd be wrong.
We all know that I loooooove boys, but I am just not attracted to this one whatsoever (not that he's unattractive). He's skinny. He's clean shaven. He's uptight. He only wears collared shirts. He was an economy major. He doesn't like getting dirty. He neatly eats pancakes (and BBQ ribs) with a fork and knife (I know!). I like manly men, bigger than me with beards and no financial stability. Who care less about mud on their shoes and has a harder time getting BBQ sauce off their face and fingers than I do.
It's strange I get along with someone so unlike myself so well, but the MF and I have definitly thought of a combination of the two guys would be great. A hybrid of HOG and the Mutual Friend, now there's a man I could really get on board with. (Why is "Dream On" currently playing in the background?)
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
A Reason to Shave My Legs
I'm not sure how it happened, but somehow I've found myself actually dating someone, and I have hardly mentioned him on this blog. Somehow he managed to get lost in the fuckwittage shuffle, and heaven forbid I actually write about someone nice on this blog!
Just under two weeks ago, things really started to take off with The Highlander (and I've been trying to slow them down, but more on that later). Apparently comparing me to his grandpa was most definitely not The Kiss of Death, because he keeps coming back for more. The very next night he took me out for burgers, which is much more my style than his fancy uptown restaurant, followed by a movie and make-out action. In a week's time, I ended up seeing him 5 times, aided by the fact that he lives a mere 5 minutes away. (Geographically desirable!) On Friday, he cooked dinner for me. The boy went all out, too. He had actually set a table. With cloth napkins. (I don't even have paper napkins, just paper towels.) And fancy wine from Argentina. He kept hovering around and asking me if I needed anything else so much that I had to tell him to just sit down and eat. It was really very sweet.
On Sunday, we ended up spending most of the day together. That's where we hit a speed bump. We grabbed pizza for lunch, and at his suggestion, picked up some gourmet cupcakes for dessert on the way home. I didn't really want to dig into them right away, and he asked if we should put them in the refrigerator. Don't ask me why, but I was supremely annoyed at this. Fresh cupcakes in the refrigerator? We just bought them! We're only going to let them sit for an hour or so! Why would we put them in the refrigerator? We watched a bit of the baseball game (my suggestion) and I found myself getting annoyed AGAIN when he made the observation that Washington didn't have a team when he was a kid, and I explained that the team had only moved there from Montreal a few years ago. It got worse when he realized out loud that the team was in Washington, D.C. and not Washington state.
Surely, this is hormonal? First of all, you can't really expect a man to know what to do with baked goods, right? And second, I've always gone after nerds who aren't really into sports, so why should his lack of knowledge about the worst team in baseball offend me so? By early evening, I had kicked him out so I could go for my daily run, while he suggested I run to his house (Ew. No, I do not need him to see me at my sweaty grossest this early, thank you very much) or at least go over to his place later. And this is where I get to the "slow down" part. I like The Highlander, I really do. He is very sweet, and treats me very well, and all that other good stuff. Only problem is, he really, really, really seems to like me, and I don't know if I just like him or really, really, really like him. While I hashed out all this logic to my roommate and ran on it, I came to the conclusion that I may as well have some fun while figuring out if I really, really, like him and decided to head over to his place after a shower.
While cuddling on the couch after a rather intense make out session (yesssss! We love action!), he was, as usual, complimenting me to watch me squirm. (I get a mite uncomfortable while being praised.) After telling me repeatedly how awesome I am, he said, "But you do get a bit grumpy sometimes..." I laughed, until I realized he wasn't joking. "Wait," I said. "Seriously? Did you seriously just say that?" Now I know better than anyone (except maybe Grayer) that I am capable of being grumpy. But I can't for the life of me remember a time when I was being grumpy in front of him. Especially after he claimed he hadn't noticed this fact earlier in the day when I was secretly getting annoyed about his lack of knowledge regarding baked goods. When else had I been grumpy? He tried to backpedal. "Um, no? Nevermind..." he said. In his attempt to make things better, he decided that would be a perfect time to tell me how much better I am than his ex-girlfriend. This is one thing that concerns me about him: he's got mentionitis regarding his ex. He doesn't talk about her constantly, and you can tell he does his best not to trash her, but he's mentioned her enough to make me want to proceed with caution.
I figure it's probably a good thing that his dad is visiting this week and that I won't see him all week. Of course, that didn't stop him from sending me an electronic hug yesterday. This will naturally slow things down and give me the chance to forget about petty cupcake annoyances.
Just under two weeks ago, things really started to take off with The Highlander (and I've been trying to slow them down, but more on that later). Apparently comparing me to his grandpa was most definitely not The Kiss of Death, because he keeps coming back for more. The very next night he took me out for burgers, which is much more my style than his fancy uptown restaurant, followed by a movie and make-out action. In a week's time, I ended up seeing him 5 times, aided by the fact that he lives a mere 5 minutes away. (Geographically desirable!) On Friday, he cooked dinner for me. The boy went all out, too. He had actually set a table. With cloth napkins. (I don't even have paper napkins, just paper towels.) And fancy wine from Argentina. He kept hovering around and asking me if I needed anything else so much that I had to tell him to just sit down and eat. It was really very sweet.
On Sunday, we ended up spending most of the day together. That's where we hit a speed bump. We grabbed pizza for lunch, and at his suggestion, picked up some gourmet cupcakes for dessert on the way home. I didn't really want to dig into them right away, and he asked if we should put them in the refrigerator. Don't ask me why, but I was supremely annoyed at this. Fresh cupcakes in the refrigerator? We just bought them! We're only going to let them sit for an hour or so! Why would we put them in the refrigerator? We watched a bit of the baseball game (my suggestion) and I found myself getting annoyed AGAIN when he made the observation that Washington didn't have a team when he was a kid, and I explained that the team had only moved there from Montreal a few years ago. It got worse when he realized out loud that the team was in Washington, D.C. and not Washington state.
Surely, this is hormonal? First of all, you can't really expect a man to know what to do with baked goods, right? And second, I've always gone after nerds who aren't really into sports, so why should his lack of knowledge about the worst team in baseball offend me so? By early evening, I had kicked him out so I could go for my daily run, while he suggested I run to his house (Ew. No, I do not need him to see me at my sweaty grossest this early, thank you very much) or at least go over to his place later. And this is where I get to the "slow down" part. I like The Highlander, I really do. He is very sweet, and treats me very well, and all that other good stuff. Only problem is, he really, really, really seems to like me, and I don't know if I just like him or really, really, really like him. While I hashed out all this logic to my roommate and ran on it, I came to the conclusion that I may as well have some fun while figuring out if I really, really, like him and decided to head over to his place after a shower.
While cuddling on the couch after a rather intense make out session (yesssss! We love action!), he was, as usual, complimenting me to watch me squirm. (I get a mite uncomfortable while being praised.) After telling me repeatedly how awesome I am, he said, "But you do get a bit grumpy sometimes..." I laughed, until I realized he wasn't joking. "Wait," I said. "Seriously? Did you seriously just say that?" Now I know better than anyone (except maybe Grayer) that I am capable of being grumpy. But I can't for the life of me remember a time when I was being grumpy in front of him. Especially after he claimed he hadn't noticed this fact earlier in the day when I was secretly getting annoyed about his lack of knowledge regarding baked goods. When else had I been grumpy? He tried to backpedal. "Um, no? Nevermind..." he said. In his attempt to make things better, he decided that would be a perfect time to tell me how much better I am than his ex-girlfriend. This is one thing that concerns me about him: he's got mentionitis regarding his ex. He doesn't talk about her constantly, and you can tell he does his best not to trash her, but he's mentioned her enough to make me want to proceed with caution.
I figure it's probably a good thing that his dad is visiting this week and that I won't see him all week. Of course, that didn't stop him from sending me an electronic hug yesterday. This will naturally slow things down and give me the chance to forget about petty cupcake annoyances.
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Unexpected Arrival
Last weekend I had Meetup Matt (MM) over for dinner. I cooked dinner, he brought wine, we cuddled on the couch and held hands…there was only one thing missing…makeout action. I thought it was kind of cute that we hung out all night and he didn’t make a move (even though it clearly would have been welcome). However, over the following week I found myself more and more anxious about the impending first kiss. What if it was bad? What if there was no chemistry? How long was it going to take for him to gather the courage to kiss me?
After several days of turmoil, I hung out with MM again. Once again it was the perfect atmosphere for him to make a move. We watched some TV, cuddled on the couch, and he finally made his move. Hoorah! The make out session was excellent until…
His mom walked in the house. MM’s mom was in town and said that she would call before she stopped by the house. Unfortunately for us she did not follow through on this. We quickly separated and moved to opposite ends of the couch like guilty teenagers. Knowing that I probably looked disheveled, I frantically tried to fix my hair…I’m not sure how successful I was in this desperate attempt to tidy myself up. Luckily we were fully clothed. I’m still not sure how much MM’s mom suspected as she didn’t comment on the situation. While the situation definitely could have been worse, I would have preferred to have been, umm, more prepared to meet his mother.
Anyway, MM did walk me to my car and kissed me goodbye. Next weekend MM invited me to a party with some of his non-meetup friends. v. good progress!
After several days of turmoil, I hung out with MM again. Once again it was the perfect atmosphere for him to make a move. We watched some TV, cuddled on the couch, and he finally made his move. Hoorah! The make out session was excellent until…
His mom walked in the house. MM’s mom was in town and said that she would call before she stopped by the house. Unfortunately for us she did not follow through on this. We quickly separated and moved to opposite ends of the couch like guilty teenagers. Knowing that I probably looked disheveled, I frantically tried to fix my hair…I’m not sure how successful I was in this desperate attempt to tidy myself up. Luckily we were fully clothed. I’m still not sure how much MM’s mom suspected as she didn’t comment on the situation. While the situation definitely could have been worse, I would have preferred to have been, umm, more prepared to meet his mother.
Anyway, MM did walk me to my car and kissed me goodbye. Next weekend MM invited me to a party with some of his non-meetup friends. v. good progress!
Thursday, July 2, 2009
The Fuckwit Hall of Shame
Oh, The Disappearance. The torture tool of choice by fuckwits everywhere. By now the entire world knows that John Boy pulled one on me. And yet, he did actually call me last week to let me know that he was still alive. He acted as if everything was fine, but I know he was hiding something. I'm going to assume it's herpes.
Of course, he assured me when I talked to him that he would call me again soon, because he really did want to see me before he left. With him scheduled to move on Wednesday, I still hadn't heard from him by Sunday night. Obviously, by this time I was seeing red and didn't want to be chummy with him, but I still had unfinished business: I wanted my books back.
So I called him and left a message that I would swing by his place on Tuesday afternoon to collect my books. He didn't respond. (Was I surprised? Of course not.) On Tuesday morning I sent a text. No response. When I finished at work, I called again. He didn't answer. I got in my car and drove to his place. With him leaving on Wednesday, he should be home, packing up all his stuff.
I told Grayer that I was planning on going over there to get my books back, and she told me, "that better be all you do." Unless, of course, I poked around his medicine cabinet to find out which STD he was hiding. I assured her I would pick up my books and leave, but I did wear a super cute dress just to remind him what he had missed out on.
As I got closer, I started to feel really silly. Was I really going over to his house? On the off-chance that he would be there? But yes, I was. I really wanted to re-read Ordinary People, dammit! As I pulled on to his street, No Doubt's "Don't Speak" came on the radio. I laughed at the appropriateness of it, and wondered if it was a sign. For what, I don't know. Although I still got out and knocked on the door, it didn't take long for me to realize no one was home. His truck wasn't there. It was official. I was never going to see John Boy again.
He's Just Not That Into You says (repeatedly) "don't waste the pretty." I had no intention of wasting the pretty, so after work that night, I drove to The Highlander's so he could pay up on a bet that he lost. My cuteness was definitely not wasted on him. I believe the word "amazing" was thrown around. And he's cooking dinner for me tomorrow night. Who needs John Boy?
Besides, he is a distinguished member of the Fuckwit Hall of Fame. And he has herpes.
Of course, he assured me when I talked to him that he would call me again soon, because he really did want to see me before he left. With him scheduled to move on Wednesday, I still hadn't heard from him by Sunday night. Obviously, by this time I was seeing red and didn't want to be chummy with him, but I still had unfinished business: I wanted my books back.
So I called him and left a message that I would swing by his place on Tuesday afternoon to collect my books. He didn't respond. (Was I surprised? Of course not.) On Tuesday morning I sent a text. No response. When I finished at work, I called again. He didn't answer. I got in my car and drove to his place. With him leaving on Wednesday, he should be home, packing up all his stuff.
I told Grayer that I was planning on going over there to get my books back, and she told me, "that better be all you do." Unless, of course, I poked around his medicine cabinet to find out which STD he was hiding. I assured her I would pick up my books and leave, but I did wear a super cute dress just to remind him what he had missed out on.
As I got closer, I started to feel really silly. Was I really going over to his house? On the off-chance that he would be there? But yes, I was. I really wanted to re-read Ordinary People, dammit! As I pulled on to his street, No Doubt's "Don't Speak" came on the radio. I laughed at the appropriateness of it, and wondered if it was a sign. For what, I don't know. Although I still got out and knocked on the door, it didn't take long for me to realize no one was home. His truck wasn't there. It was official. I was never going to see John Boy again.
He's Just Not That Into You says (repeatedly) "don't waste the pretty." I had no intention of wasting the pretty, so after work that night, I drove to The Highlander's so he could pay up on a bet that he lost. My cuteness was definitely not wasted on him. I believe the word "amazing" was thrown around. And he's cooking dinner for me tomorrow night. Who needs John Boy?
Besides, he is a distinguished member of the Fuckwit Hall of Fame. And he has herpes.
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