Sunday, May 31, 2009

The Rejext

As you know, I met The Neuroscientist on Monday, who, on paper, should have been the man of my dreams. Unfortunately, in person, he turned out to be a slight man, and in all honesty his sense of humor (while he did have one) was a bit lame. And with John Boy occupying my time (until he left the country yesterday for two weeks) I just didn't know what to do about The Neuroscientist when he requested the pleasure of my company for a second time. Luckily, he asked via email, so I was able to stall until I figured out what to do. During which time I had my first (and certainly not last) make out session with John Boy. Eventually, he shot me a text message asking if I wanted to go hiking the next day, and I couldn't stall anymore. I consulted Scarlet and Grayer, and Scarlet told me I just needed to give him the rejection. (Grayer was too busy with HOG to answer her phone. Hmph.) We also decided that you can reject via the same form of communication as the offer came. But how to word the rejext? (Rejection + text = rejext)

We (Scarlet and I) decided to go the same route as Halpert, when he rejexted me. We told him that I had just started seeing someone (which is essentially true, albeit temporary). The Neuroscientist responded in a few minutes by saying "No worries :) I had fun hanging out with you the other day." That kind of made me feel bad, but not bad enough to change my mind. So does this mean I'm in for some bad dating karma? Because I don't think mine could really get any worse.

Friday, May 29, 2009

Take the lead

If Violet's recent kissing crusade was any evidence, women seem to have problems taking initiative in physical aspects of a "relationship." Sure, we've evolved to not wait around for the phone call, we even can ask men on dates, so what is with this hesitance to get what we need (yes, women have needs), nay, get what we deserve? Like Violet, why do we need to get all liquored up before making a first move? Just imagine if men had to do that. There would be drunken idiots everywhere (like, even more so than there already are).

I am not one to criticize, and only in my current non-relationship am I realizing just how much I depend on a man to make the moves. Hanging Out Guy was shy from the start and even though we've been hanging out since January (luckily I have records of our pseudo-courtship here on WWBD?), he really hasn't gotten better. I have to admit, after scheduling conflicts and of course Boston sports preventing us getting together for a while there, I haven't even kissed the guy in over a month. I know. A month. And if I haven't mentioned it before, I love to make out, almost as much as I love boys. And I Looooove boys.

So here's what I think has happened. The comfort level that we got to physically, has significantly decreased, while our natural female inhibition has returned (I say "our female inhibition" because I really think he should be grouped with ladies in the "taking the lead" category). I swear the only thing stopping me from jumping him, is the fact that I don't know if he now wants to be just friends, although it'd be surprising (because when do guys ever want to be just friends when there's benefits in the equation?). I don't understand this, especially when his friends seem to think we're "together" and he refuses to let me pay for things. Whatever the case, this insecurity is making me more timid than usual.

So, in light of Violet's recent lip-locking heroics, I pledge get some action this weekend, that is, if I see him. Ah hell, I pledge to get some action no matter what. Viva la Singletonhood!

Thursday, May 28, 2009

Just a friendly make out session

As has been well-documented, I've engaged in flirtations of all kinds with John Boy over the last month or so. The sexual tension seemed to reach a breaking point over the weekend during a round of flirtexting, and I decided I was going to have to take control of the situation. I am a feminist, and if a woman wants to kiss a man why shouldn't she make the first move? This of course sounds great in theory, but execution is another matter. So before I saw John Boy last night, I called Scarlet for a bit of a pep talk. I still had some wine leftover from Scarlet's and my weekend wine binge, and I figured I would need to dip pretty heavily into that in order to muster up the courage to make the first move.

The evening got off to a pretty normal start. We ate dinner. We talked. We watched a movie. Although at some point during the movie I realized we were cuddling, and I thought to myself, 'Maybe I'm better at this seduction thing than I thought...' which is apparently true, because in the end, I didn't have to make the move. He went in 90%, I finished the 10. Yes!!!! And there was no creepy heavy breathing! And he didn't even try to chew my lips off with his teeth! Jackpot! (oh, dear, my standards have become very low, haven't they?)

So don't worry, Grayer, you don't have to stage an intervention of any kind. While nothing has changed in that he's still moving in about a month and one of my iron-clad dealbreakers is distance, that doesn't mean fun can't be had. I know I said I would just say no to imaginary boyfriends this year, but this is a Friends with Benefits situation, which is entirely different. An imaginary boyfriend is a boy you keep waiting to declare himself your boyfriend, whereas a friend with benefits understands the non-relationship aspect of the relationship. It's quite simple, really.

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

Dating Burnout

I’d like to apologize for neglecting WWBD? this past month. Honestly between work, friends, family and the men of online dating I’ve barely even had time to relax. In light of my absence I’d like to give a recap of my adventures of online dating since I last posted.

I can relate to Violet’s pre-first date lack of enthusiasm. I met both The German and The Country Boy in the last few weeks. Prior to these dates I called both Violet and a few other friends for a pep talk. I really did try to psych myself up for the dates. I thought maybe after I made an effort to look cute I’d be more enthused but to no avail I just wasn’t that into them.

The German was up first. I met him at a pub after work, we both ordered beers, and he proceeded to talk about himself. My most common phrases of the evening were “uh huh”, “OK”, and “that’s nice.” I tried several times to change the topic to more common ground but apparently The German was just that into himself. At the point where I might have considered ordering food because I was starving, I decided that I needed to escape. Unfortunately The German had other plans…he ordered a second beer so without being rude I had no choice but to wait till he was done. I left feeling cheated out of a free meal and thinking “I’ll never get those 3 hours of my life back!” I have not heard from The German since and I can't say that I'm disappointed.

For my date with The Country Boy I decided that I needed to plan the date more wisely. I suggested ice cream on a week night. (See I do learn from experience!) I figured you can order another beer but not another ice cream. The date with The Country Boy was moderately better than the date with The German; however, his pictures were clearly from high school. He was nice but I just wasn’t feeling it. The Country Boy emailed me the next day and I graciously turned him down for a second date. I

So here is my problem…at what point does my attempt to be open minded and not too picky go too far? Violet and I discussed this topic over the weekend. The thing is that I think that I’m really putting forth an honest effort. For example, I tell Violet almost everything but I was so determined to give The Engineer a chance that I didn’t admit to Violet that I wasn’t attracted to him to after it was over. (I felt guilty about it and we got along so well that I thought that maybe with time that would change.)

I think there is a point where you just have to admit there are certain things you can’t compromise on. Unfortunately, this leaves me at an impasse. Where have all the fun, educated, eligible bachelors gone?

Monday, May 25, 2009

The Vertical Challenge

I like nerds. I like sports. I make no secret of either of those facts. And tonight I had a date with a neuroscientist, and he suggested we go to the park to play catch. This should be a dream come true, but for some reason, I needed both Scarlet and Grayer to tell me how excited I should be about it. They were right, I should have been very excited about it, but for some reason, I couldn't really get pumped up. Have my expectations just been lowered by all the other disappointments? Or, (a very likely explanation) am I just looking forward more to John Boy being back in town?

While I was waiting for him at our designated location, a man about 60 with white hair parked in front of the bench I was sitting on, got out of the car, and said, "Are you waiting for me?"

"No," I answered. Because if this was somehow the Neuroscientist, I didn't want to admit who I was anyway.

"Oh, darn!" said the white haired man. It was then that the Neuroscientist walked up. I stood up, and immediately regretted it. The Neuroscientist is vertically challenged. I was definitely taller.

This is a phenomenon I've noticed about online dating. Men exaggerate their height. Unless they are over six feet tall, they add a few inches to their height on their profiles. I'm not an abnormally tall woman, but I have a few inches on both Scarlet and Grayer, and when I'm wearing heels, I appear to be a tall woman. I'm just not attracted to men who are shorter than me. It's awkward.

Not only am I taller than him, but I also have a better arm than than he does. That's nothing new, but when I asked John Boy why I'm still single, he answered that men could possibly be intimidated by me. I don't think I'm an intimidating person, but as he also pointed out, I go after nerds and the like, who are more likely to be intimidated by someone by me. So I wouldn't be surprised if I didn't get a call for a second date from the Neuroscientist, even if it did go well otherwise.

And by the way, on the way back by our meeting point, the white haired man was sitting there with a more age appropriate woman, chatting and drinking coffee. Clearly they were doing the same thing. It was really very sweet.

Saturday, May 23, 2009

The Art of Flirtexting

A wise woman once said, "We date, therefore we text." And I, a longtime opponent of texting, have come to realize just how true that is, and if I want children, I'm going to have to let go of my old-fashioned ways and accept texting as a means of communication. And while I'm still not completely entrenched in the texting society, I engaged in quite a bit of flirtexting last night, with big assists from Scarlet and a bottle of wine.

Yes, that's right. Scarlet is visiting this weekend, and we were doing it up Bridget-style; polishing off a bottle of wine on my porch while bashing fuckwits. After the wine took effect, I whipped out my phone and texted John Boy, who is out of town for the weekend. I told him about the giant bugs invading our porch, like something out of a horror movie. He offered to come over (next week) and kill the bugs. I told him I might have to make out with him if he did. He said to consider them killed. Then he asked if Scarlet and I were having a good time, and I told him we were discussing the merits of men with beards and the hazards of men with stubble, which is what we were, in fact, discussing. It will be interesting to see what kind of facial hair he has the next time I see him.

And as I am in some desperate need of some quality lip action, I am fervantly hoping that it is NOT stubble.

Thursday, May 21, 2009

Flirting with Disaster?

Grayer is right. Things have been pretty slow here in WWBD? land. Although I do have an inbox full of worthy candidates into the online dating Hall of Shame, and several contacts that went straight down the Road to Nowhere, there has really been nothing to report.

Except for my mounting sexual frustration, made only worse by my increasingly flirtatious encounters with John Boy.

Yes, I know I told him we should just be friends. Yes, I know he's moving in a mere 40 days. And yes, I know that he really, really likes me, and I should therefore cease and desist with the flirting immediately. But not only can I not do that, I don't want to do that. The more we hang out, the more fun I have, and the more I like him. Last night, the flirtations and the sexual tension went up quite a few notches, and yet, nothing happened. Why? Because I told him I wanted to be "just friends" and he is a true southerner, and a good enough guy to respect that, no matter how much he's dying to put the moves on me (and he is). If anything is going to happen, it's going to be up to me to initiate it, and that is not an area in which I excel.

Which means I have no choice but to consume mass quantities of wine the next time I see him. Channeling my inner Bridget...

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

Moving on, moving out

I realize I have not contributed to the blog in a while. The truth is, there has been nothing new going on in my life worth reading, trust me. We here at WWBD seem to be in a bit of a slump.

Hanging Out Guy and I have continued down our questionable path. With the Celtics and Bruins losing this past weekend, I expect I may be invited over for more than just watching a playoff game. Not that I mind playoff games, but come on, he backed out of our usual Thursday night lineup (Parks, Office, Rock, does it get better than that?). But change is coming.

This weekend I'll be moving to a neighboring town, 10 minutes away. Not far, but considerably farther than the 3 blocks I live from his house. This move will do one of two things to our "relationship":
  1. Considering I don't see him very often now, I'll see him even less after the move. He won't be able to call me up and come right over. Since he seems to lack the planning gene (like so many of mankind), our get togethers will probably be reduced to going to a bar on the weekend (though staying at his house, walking distance from the bars, would be a plus).
  2. My move may force him to grow up and actually make plans with me (gasp!). And because my new place is totally awesome, he just might want to hang out there. Although we are basically just friends with benefits, having him to hang out with this summer sounds like a lot of fun (btw, what is it about wanting a boy in the summer?).
Only time will tell as I should be moving on Sunday. He has offered to help with the move, lucky for him, because if he hadn't, we wouldn't even be having this conversation (It is a man's moral and genetic duty to help ladies move, remember that).

With or without him, I'll be living on the river with my two best girls, my crazy cat and a dog to terrorize him. This summer's going to SICK!

Sunday, May 17, 2009

Operation: Cockblock

Last night over burgers, my friends and I hatched a plan to put a stop to The Ultimate Fuckwit.

The Ultimate Fuckwit just happens to be my former boss. When he was my boss, we didn't realize how much of a fuckwit this guy really is, but after he was promoted to an even higher job and no longer our boss, we figured out that he's not just an ordinary fuckwit. His fuckwittage goes way beyond your run-of-the-mill fuckwittage, like not calling. He destroys lives.

When TUF was my boss, he was married, but by the way he talked about his wife, I wasn't sure. He certainly didn't sound like someone who was too terribly in love with his wife, and I wondered if he was already divorced (he wasn't). There were rumors that he was carrying on an affair with a married woman in the company for which we worked, but nothing more than speculation. After his promotion, he began an affair with my new boss, his replacement. She was married, has two children, and her then-husband also worked for the same company. Her husband, poor guy, heard about this through the grapevine. He quit his job. They got a divorce. TUF divorced his wife. Meanwhile, the first rumored affair woman had a baby. Everyone, and I mean EVERYONE asked the obvious question: Was it her husband's or The Ultimate Fuckwit's?

My new boss and TUF moved in together, bringing all 4 of their combined children with them. A few months later, he left her and resumed relations with the first woman. Seriously. This man grew up a Nerd, and now he works in a profession dominated by women, and he seems to be making up for lost time.

Flash forward 1.5 years. I no longer work with this company. He is still at his job. And he has his sights set on a newcomer, a poor, innocent newcomer. New in town, who knows nothing of his reputation, and thinks he is just a nice guy who is willing to show her around town. She also happens to be my friend Penelope's new supervisor. Penelope can't really say much to stop her, since this woman writes her reviews. As we sat there last night, another friend said, "I want nothing more than to cockblock him."

That's where I come in. I don't work for this company anymore. His prey is new to town, and in need of a yoga partner. Penelope is going to set up a friend date for the two of us. At some point, I'll talk about my time working for him and how scandalous everything was, feigning innocence at her current relationship with him. From there, it's up to her, but she has to know that everyone she works with knows exactly what's going on when they see the two of them talking to her. Operation Cockblock is about to commence...

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

Playlist: I could just kill a man

The much anticipated angy girl playlist, because even if you love them, it's still ok to hate them.

I could just kill a man - Charlotte Sometimes
I can do better - Avril Lavigne
You Learn- Alanis Morissette
Goodbye Earl - Dixie Chicks
F**k you - Lily Allen
I Need Some Fine Wine, and You, You Need to Be Nicer- The Cardigans
Cheater, Cheater - Joey & Rory
I Hate Everyone - Get Set Go
Before He Cheats - Carrie Underwood
Kerosene - Miranda Lambert
Let 'Er Rip - Dixie Chicks
Gone - Madonna
This is only for now - Charlotte Sometimes
Not ready to make nice - Dixie Chicks
Love Don't live here anymore - Lady Antebellum
The more boys I meet - Carrie Underwood
Not big - Lily Allen

Monday, May 11, 2009

Question of the Week: Top 5 fictional dreamboats

Since none of us seem to have anything going on at the moment, this seems like the perfect time to bring back the Question of the Week. In January, we asked for your Top 5 celebrities, and they had to be real people. But now, we want to know your Top 5 fictional characters. This means that they aren't necessarily the sexiest men alive, but are absolutely perfect, since they are in fact fictional. I suspect the three of us will have very similar lists.

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

Refusing to be a Fuckwit

After I inadvertantly (and enthusiastically!) agreed that The Dropout should call me some time at the end of our date, I knew I couldn't keep stringing him along. Luckily, I was hitting the road for the weekend, and he knew I would be out of town. However, on Friday, he sent me a Happy Friday, have a great weekend! text. I figured I should ignore it, but as Scarlet pointed out, ignoring texts can also be construed as fuckwittage, and I want to stear cleer of that. So I called up John Boy to get a guy's opinion. I asked him if he would prefer to be rejected by a girl before the weekend or after. He gave me the answer I wanted to here: after the weekend will work just fine.

But of course The Dropout didn't wait for me to return. He left me a message before I got back into town, asking me out this week. I took a deep breath and called him back (no wonder guys avoid this part, it kinda sucks), but got his voicemail. Then it occured to me: should I just break the news on his voicemail? Would leaving him a message be sending him false hope? I ended up leaving him a (rather distressed sounding?) voicemail, telling him to call me back. He did. I told him I didn't think it was going to work out. He told me he appreciated his honesty, and did he freak me out with the whole recovery thing? I told him that wasn't it (because it was really only part of it), and wished him luck.

When I was retelling this story to John Boy (who I've become very flirtatious friends with), he was surprised I called him back. Apparently, John Boy would only call a girl back if he still wanted to be friends, but if he didn't, he wouldn't call. I called him a fuckwit. In a completely unrelated note, he later told me I "was like a dude with long hair," then before hanging up (an hour later) asked me in an intentionally creepy voice what I was wearing. I know it's wrong to flirt with a man I rejected, but why does it feel so right?