Hey ladies, men have a new secret weapon: a t-shirt. Not just any t-shirt, but a three wolves t-shirt. Please take a moment to check out this bitchin' shirt of wolves howling at the moon, but most importantly take time to read a couple of the 1,100 reviews. (Most importantly the first five star review "Dual Function Design").
After my friend (HOG's friend who I happen to really really like, but not be attracted to, more on that later) flashed me his undershirt (it looked even better tucked in) of the three wolves I laughed. After he showed me the reviews online, I laughed so hard I cried. This isn't quite the effect this shirt is claimed to have on women, but I certainly did enjoy it. Check it out for a good laugh!
Monday, June 29, 2009
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Kiss of the Highlander
To: Scarlet
From: Violet
He just compared me to his grandpa. Is that bad?
That was the text I sent to Scarlet during a date with The Highlander Friday night. It was a bit tricky getting the text out with him sitting right next to me, but I managed. On other occasions, I've even called Scarlet from a public restroom during a date to give her an update. She is having MM over for dinner tonight, and I requested that she keep her phone in the bathroom so she can send me update texts throughout. (Since it's not in a public place, he would obviously be able to hear her talking in the bathroom, and that might be a bit strange.) Just examples of how we have become entirely too reliant on one another.
In preparation for dinner with MM, I have given Scarlet my never-fail "I want to make-out with you advice": Talk about your underwear. Just a mention here or there at some point in the evening about your unmentionables works like a charm, I swear. Case in point:
Friday evening, The Highlander took me to a baseball game. He isn't much of a fan himself, and these were not easy (or cheap) tickets to come by, so I was pretty impressed. During the game, he asked me a few questions, since he hasn't followed baseball too closely since he was younger (a victim of the player's strike of '94), and at one point told me that this reminded him of going to games with his grandpa when he was a kid. "Did you just compare me to your grandpa?" I asked. He explained that when he was younger, he would ask his grandpa a million questions during the game and his grandpa always had the answers. As do I. Awesome. First John Boy (who I'm convinced has herpes) told me I was like a dude with long hair, and now The Highlander compared me to his grandpa.
But he made it perfectly clear later that the comparison was strictly baseball encyclopedic knowledge related when my underwear mentionitis worked perfectly, and no one would do that to their grandpa. Hoorah!
From: Violet
He just compared me to his grandpa. Is that bad?
That was the text I sent to Scarlet during a date with The Highlander Friday night. It was a bit tricky getting the text out with him sitting right next to me, but I managed. On other occasions, I've even called Scarlet from a public restroom during a date to give her an update. She is having MM over for dinner tonight, and I requested that she keep her phone in the bathroom so she can send me update texts throughout. (Since it's not in a public place, he would obviously be able to hear her talking in the bathroom, and that might be a bit strange.) Just examples of how we have become entirely too reliant on one another.
In preparation for dinner with MM, I have given Scarlet my never-fail "I want to make-out with you advice": Talk about your underwear. Just a mention here or there at some point in the evening about your unmentionables works like a charm, I swear. Case in point:
Friday evening, The Highlander took me to a baseball game. He isn't much of a fan himself, and these were not easy (or cheap) tickets to come by, so I was pretty impressed. During the game, he asked me a few questions, since he hasn't followed baseball too closely since he was younger (a victim of the player's strike of '94), and at one point told me that this reminded him of going to games with his grandpa when he was a kid. "Did you just compare me to your grandpa?" I asked. He explained that when he was younger, he would ask his grandpa a million questions during the game and his grandpa always had the answers. As do I. Awesome. First John Boy (who I'm convinced has herpes) told me I was like a dude with long hair, and now The Highlander compared me to his grandpa.
But he made it perfectly clear later that the comparison was strictly baseball encyclopedic knowledge related when my underwear mentionitis worked perfectly, and no one would do that to their grandpa. Hoorah!
Monday, June 22, 2009
Becoming Bridget
Percentage of incoming callers creating angry resentment for not being Mark Darcy-unless ringing to talk about Mark Darcy-and urged to get off the phone as quickly as possible in case blocking call from Mark Darcy- 100.
-Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason
I've been listening to The Edge of Reason the last few days, and when I heard the above lines, I laughed out loud (at the gym; I'm sure everyone thought I was crazy), because that was me last week, waiting in anticipation for John Boy's phone call. Feeling resentment at anyone who wasn't him. (And that includes both Scarlet and Grayer, and I apologize for that. I appreciate all calls.)
The older I get and the longer I remain a singleton, the funnier the escapades of Bridget are. Mostly because the older I get the more my life resembles hers, and that is a scary thought indeed.
**In case you're wondering, he still hasn't rung, and it's been ten days. Either something tragic has happened, or he is indeed an emotional fuckwitt, so unless I hear something from him, this is the last time you will hear him mentioned. I'm tired of talking about him.
Over the last week, my life seems to have taken on the form of some romantic comedy caper. Wednesday was the high (er, low?) point, when I had an earth shattering epiphany as I was getting out of the shower. I eluded to this in my recount of my terrible, horrible, no good, very bad week post, but as I was getting out of the shower I realized that this is not the first time a man that I was snogging went away and came back to ignore me. Two years ago things seemed to actually be going well with McNerdy (or at least as well as they ever went with him), when he took off for two months. I heard from him pretty regularly for about the first month. Then as the second month set in, I just had this feeling something had changed. Sure enough, when he got back to town earlier than expected, I didn't find out because he called me. No, I found out with everyone else in the mass email he sent to friends and family. Then John Boy went away for two weeks, and even though I haven't heard from him in ten days, he had continued to email me right up until the day before his return, making his disappearance all the more baffling. Although, as Scarlet pointed out, every time someone pulls The Disappearance on us, we say the same thing. But apparently, while they are around, I can get my claws in them, but as soon as they leave and the claws are retracted, they seem to realize life without me isn't all bad, and therefore what's the point of an actual relationship?
As was documented in my previous post, I ate a lot of ice cream and drank wine while sitting on my couch in my underwear (hot apartment situation out of control over last week's extreme heat wave) after this realization. If I were a smoker, I'm sure I would have smoked an awful lot too (although surely too hot?). Needed calming phone call from Scarlet to assure me am not forgettable and to remind me that I am a woman of substance complete without man.
Thursday wasn't any better, as it found Scarlet perusing horoscopes until she found one that told her what she wanted (mine told me that I was making mountains out of molehills, scarily fitting), that her single days may soon be over, and I found myself googling John Boy to see if his name had popped up in any police reports/obituaries. Today my roommate offered to help me conduct a drive-by of his house, since we certainly can't be discreet in my car, which is the complete opposite of discreet. (But he lives in a cul de sac, so we can't be discreet no matter what kind of camouflage car we're driving.)
Sometimes I can't quite believe this is my life. Googling and facebook stalking a man I knew was just temporary? Considering driving by his house to see if he's there? Reading three horoscopes a day to find one that will tell me I'll meet Mr. Right? (Actually what I need now is one that will give me the winning lottery numbers...) That kind of pisses me off. Not only am I a woman of substance, but I have a lot of substance. I am intelligent and funny, and highly amusing. (I think The Highlander is v. amused by me.) And to top it all off, I have the whole "I can explain the infield fly rule" thing going on for me. I'm practically a walking wet dream. (yes, that's right, I said it.) I know I'm a proud singleton and woman of substance, but is it so wrong to want someone with which to share the substance? And what the hell is wrong with these men for not realizing that?
-Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason
I've been listening to The Edge of Reason the last few days, and when I heard the above lines, I laughed out loud (at the gym; I'm sure everyone thought I was crazy), because that was me last week, waiting in anticipation for John Boy's phone call. Feeling resentment at anyone who wasn't him. (And that includes both Scarlet and Grayer, and I apologize for that. I appreciate all calls.)
The older I get and the longer I remain a singleton, the funnier the escapades of Bridget are. Mostly because the older I get the more my life resembles hers, and that is a scary thought indeed.
**In case you're wondering, he still hasn't rung, and it's been ten days. Either something tragic has happened, or he is indeed an emotional fuckwitt, so unless I hear something from him, this is the last time you will hear him mentioned. I'm tired of talking about him.
Over the last week, my life seems to have taken on the form of some romantic comedy caper. Wednesday was the high (er, low?) point, when I had an earth shattering epiphany as I was getting out of the shower. I eluded to this in my recount of my terrible, horrible, no good, very bad week post, but as I was getting out of the shower I realized that this is not the first time a man that I was snogging went away and came back to ignore me. Two years ago things seemed to actually be going well with McNerdy (or at least as well as they ever went with him), when he took off for two months. I heard from him pretty regularly for about the first month. Then as the second month set in, I just had this feeling something had changed. Sure enough, when he got back to town earlier than expected, I didn't find out because he called me. No, I found out with everyone else in the mass email he sent to friends and family. Then John Boy went away for two weeks, and even though I haven't heard from him in ten days, he had continued to email me right up until the day before his return, making his disappearance all the more baffling. Although, as Scarlet pointed out, every time someone pulls The Disappearance on us, we say the same thing. But apparently, while they are around, I can get my claws in them, but as soon as they leave and the claws are retracted, they seem to realize life without me isn't all bad, and therefore what's the point of an actual relationship?
As was documented in my previous post, I ate a lot of ice cream and drank wine while sitting on my couch in my underwear (hot apartment situation out of control over last week's extreme heat wave) after this realization. If I were a smoker, I'm sure I would have smoked an awful lot too (although surely too hot?). Needed calming phone call from Scarlet to assure me am not forgettable and to remind me that I am a woman of substance complete without man.
Thursday wasn't any better, as it found Scarlet perusing horoscopes until she found one that told her what she wanted (mine told me that I was making mountains out of molehills, scarily fitting), that her single days may soon be over, and I found myself googling John Boy to see if his name had popped up in any police reports/obituaries. Today my roommate offered to help me conduct a drive-by of his house, since we certainly can't be discreet in my car, which is the complete opposite of discreet. (But he lives in a cul de sac, so we can't be discreet no matter what kind of camouflage car we're driving.)
Sometimes I can't quite believe this is my life. Googling and facebook stalking a man I knew was just temporary? Considering driving by his house to see if he's there? Reading three horoscopes a day to find one that will tell me I'll meet Mr. Right? (Actually what I need now is one that will give me the winning lottery numbers...) That kind of pisses me off. Not only am I a woman of substance, but I have a lot of substance. I am intelligent and funny, and highly amusing. (I think The Highlander is v. amused by me.) And to top it all off, I have the whole "I can explain the infield fly rule" thing going on for me. I'm practically a walking wet dream. (yes, that's right, I said it.) I know I'm a proud singleton and woman of substance, but is it so wrong to want someone with which to share the substance? And what the hell is wrong with these men for not realizing that?
Friday, June 19, 2009
Violet and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week
I expected to spend the week snogging John Boy, but by Monday afternoon he still hadn't called, so I went out for margaritas with McNerdy, but when that was over and I had sobered up enough to realize that he STILL hadn't called, it made me sad again. I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad week.
On Wednesday, my alarm didn't go off, so I was rushing around in the morning, and when I went to the gym after work, I realized that I brought two shirts and no shorts, so I just went home.
It was so hot in my apartment I couldn't even put pants on, and then I remembered John Boy promised to look at my A/C when he got back, but he STILL hadn't called, even after I sent him an email giving him my theories as to his whereabouts. Then after I got out of the shower, I realized that this is the second time a boy has chucked me after he went away for a little while, since things had been going well with McNerdy until he went off into the wilderness for two months and wasn't much interested in me when he came back. It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad week.
So then I called Scarlet, because I knew she would assure me that boys didn't forget about me the moment they went on holiday, but she didn't answer, so I had to leave her a voicemail message asking her to call me back and offer moral support before I ate a pint of extreme moosetracks and finished a bottle of wine. She called me back, but not before I ate all the moosetracks and drank all the wine.
"I'm having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad week!" I cried, but nobody answered, mostly because my roommate is out of town and the cat doesn't care.
I think I'll move to Australia.
I was really excited to see one of my favorite bands in concert on Friday night, but on Thursday I found out the concert was canceled. I bet they're playing in Australia.
And the worst of it came today when my boss announced everyone was going to have to take a pay cut, so I guess I really should focus more on The Highlander, since he can afford to spend more money on one dinner than I can spend in two weeks on groceries.
I bet the economy isn't this bad in Australia.
I haven't kissed anyone this week, and I love kissing.
I really need to clean, but I hate cleaning.
My apartment is still too hot to wear pants.
It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad week.
But tonight I'm going to go see a movie starring Jim Halpert himself with a beard and glasses, so it will be like heaven, and tomorrow I'm going out on a THIRD DATE with The Highlander, so it's not all bad.
Besides, everyone has bad weeks.
Even in Australia.
On Wednesday, my alarm didn't go off, so I was rushing around in the morning, and when I went to the gym after work, I realized that I brought two shirts and no shorts, so I just went home.
It was so hot in my apartment I couldn't even put pants on, and then I remembered John Boy promised to look at my A/C when he got back, but he STILL hadn't called, even after I sent him an email giving him my theories as to his whereabouts. Then after I got out of the shower, I realized that this is the second time a boy has chucked me after he went away for a little while, since things had been going well with McNerdy until he went off into the wilderness for two months and wasn't much interested in me when he came back. It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad week.
So then I called Scarlet, because I knew she would assure me that boys didn't forget about me the moment they went on holiday, but she didn't answer, so I had to leave her a voicemail message asking her to call me back and offer moral support before I ate a pint of extreme moosetracks and finished a bottle of wine. She called me back, but not before I ate all the moosetracks and drank all the wine.
"I'm having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad week!" I cried, but nobody answered, mostly because my roommate is out of town and the cat doesn't care.
I think I'll move to Australia.
I was really excited to see one of my favorite bands in concert on Friday night, but on Thursday I found out the concert was canceled. I bet they're playing in Australia.
And the worst of it came today when my boss announced everyone was going to have to take a pay cut, so I guess I really should focus more on The Highlander, since he can afford to spend more money on one dinner than I can spend in two weeks on groceries.
I bet the economy isn't this bad in Australia.
I haven't kissed anyone this week, and I love kissing.
I really need to clean, but I hate cleaning.
My apartment is still too hot to wear pants.
It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad week.
But tonight I'm going to go see a movie starring Jim Halpert himself with a beard and glasses, so it will be like heaven, and tomorrow I'm going out on a THIRD DATE with The Highlander, so it's not all bad.
Besides, everyone has bad weeks.
Even in Australia.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
The Transition
I’ve been hanging out with Meetup Matt (MM) with increased frequency over the past few weeks. In the past week I saw him 4 out of 7 days. We have started to make the transition from spending time with mutual friends to hanging out alone last week. I find this transition somewhat frustrating. I’m a little concerned that MM may become a hang out guy. There are definitely signs that he is interested. For example he went to see a movie that he had already seen with me simply because I said I wanted to see it. He suggested that we go out to lunch sometime and actually followed through. MM even went as far as to call it a “lunch date” but then didn’t pay for my lunch. (I know I am a mature woman perfectly capable of paying for my own lunch but I typically use this as an indicator that a guy is interested.) However, there have been several times where he has paid for me. Also on several occasions I have noticed that he was more touchy than what is typical for a friend. (More often in situations that involve a little bit of alcohol.) MM even asked me to go to a concert with him which is over a month away. If those things aren't enough to convince you he maybe interested...in addition to hanging out with me he also talks to me daily outside of seeing me simply to see how my day is and share random antidotes of our days.
The only thing is…he hasn’t made a move. I know it hasn’t been that long but I want to know if I’m misreading the situation. Is he into me or does he just think I’m cool and fun to hang out with? Would a guy really devote all this time and effort to a girl they aren't interested in?
I kind of think both of us are afraid to officially make the transition from friends to something more. Rejection is so much harder when it is someone you actually know! So I’m trying to be patience and I’m waiting it out to see where this goes. MM better get a move on it though because my horoscope promised some excellent make out action at the end of the month!!
The only thing is…he hasn’t made a move. I know it hasn’t been that long but I want to know if I’m misreading the situation. Is he into me or does he just think I’m cool and fun to hang out with? Would a guy really devote all this time and effort to a girl they aren't interested in?
I kind of think both of us are afraid to officially make the transition from friends to something more. Rejection is so much harder when it is someone you actually know! So I’m trying to be patience and I’m waiting it out to see where this goes. MM better get a move on it though because my horoscope promised some excellent make out action at the end of the month!!
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
May you be cursed with perpetual diarrhea
I know, I know. John Boy is NOT my boyfriend. But it is now Wednesday, he returned to the country on Saturday, and I have heard nary a peep from him since Saturday night. I know that we have all been victim of The Disappearance, but this is truly baffling. The last email I received from him said "look forward to seeing you when I get back" and he did text me upon landing, and then did (eventually) call on Saturday night. So when I got no response to the voicemail I left Monday, I sent him an email listing all the possible things I think have happened to him since Saturday night that have prevented him from picking up the phone. (And before you judge my list, I just want to point out that we have a very loose, casual relationship that doesn't know serious, so I never really worried about the appropriateness of it.)
1. He acquired a parasite before leaving Costa Rica, and hasn't been able to leave the toilet since returning home.
2. He came home with a souvenir of a different variety, i.e. syphilis, gonorrhea, the clap, herpes or the like and is a bit embarrassed to tell me as much, seeing as I expressly warned him to stay away from Costa Rican hookers.
3. He is Married/Engaged to said Costa Rican hooker.
4. He has always been Married/Engaged to someone else the entire time I've known him and has just done a really good job of covering it up.
5. He missed me so much while away for only two weeks that he decided to cut off ties immediately.
6. He's just not that into me. (Which kind of goes against everything he's have ever said or done, but seeing as the status of our relationship is that of friends, I'm not sure why this requires pulling off a Disappearance.)
7. He liked those books I lent him so much that he doesn't want to return them. (And I REALLY WANT THOSE BACK.)
8. It was actually he who told me The Disappearance is usually resorted to after finding out something you just can't live with about the other party. Not sure what sort of savory tidbit he could have unearthed on me while in the jungle, so I think I may have to cross this one off the list.
9. He had a major life epiphany: decided he was gay, that his best friend was the true love of his life, and ran off to Iowa or Maine to be married immediately.
I even pointed out to him that I really have no right to be angry at him for not calling (hoping that he won't avoid calling due to fear of the repercussions), and that I really just want to make sure he's still alive. And that I want my books back.
When The Heavy Breather pulled off The Disappearance, I was simply pissed. I had been wanting to break things off with him, and he disappeared before I could. And while I am pissed off now (rage is apparently good for my softball game), I'm more hurt than anything else. I'm getting the heavy pit in my stomach when I realize I haven't heard from him. Which only makes me more aware of the fact that if I had truly accepted him as only temporary, I wouldn't be this upset over it. I mean, he's already guilty of so many of my other dealbreakers, why not add one more?
1. He acquired a parasite before leaving Costa Rica, and hasn't been able to leave the toilet since returning home.
2. He came home with a souvenir of a different variety, i.e. syphilis, gonorrhea, the clap, herpes or the like and is a bit embarrassed to tell me as much, seeing as I expressly warned him to stay away from Costa Rican hookers.
3. He is Married/Engaged to said Costa Rican hooker.
4. He has always been Married/Engaged to someone else the entire time I've known him and has just done a really good job of covering it up.
5. He missed me so much while away for only two weeks that he decided to cut off ties immediately.
6. He's just not that into me. (Which kind of goes against everything he's have ever said or done, but seeing as the status of our relationship is that of friends, I'm not sure why this requires pulling off a Disappearance.)
7. He liked those books I lent him so much that he doesn't want to return them. (And I REALLY WANT THOSE BACK.)
8. It was actually he who told me The Disappearance is usually resorted to after finding out something you just can't live with about the other party. Not sure what sort of savory tidbit he could have unearthed on me while in the jungle, so I think I may have to cross this one off the list.
9. He had a major life epiphany: decided he was gay, that his best friend was the true love of his life, and ran off to Iowa or Maine to be married immediately.
I even pointed out to him that I really have no right to be angry at him for not calling (hoping that he won't avoid calling due to fear of the repercussions), and that I really just want to make sure he's still alive. And that I want my books back.
When The Heavy Breather pulled off The Disappearance, I was simply pissed. I had been wanting to break things off with him, and he disappeared before I could. And while I am pissed off now (rage is apparently good for my softball game), I'm more hurt than anything else. I'm getting the heavy pit in my stomach when I realize I haven't heard from him. Which only makes me more aware of the fact that if I had truly accepted him as only temporary, I wouldn't be this upset over it. I mean, he's already guilty of so many of my other dealbreakers, why not add one more?
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
When Fools Rush In 2: The Ultimate Leap
Exactly 3 months ago I told you about my buddy Nate, who after exactly 2 dates, was suddenly in a exclusive committed relationship. I found this extremely fast, as I have to be seeing a guy at least 4 months before I jump off the deep end and I actually call him my boyfriend (HOG and I are going on 5). But their quickness didn't stop there. Within weeks they were meeting each other's families, even staying at her parents for the Easter weekend. Their relationship moved forward so quickly, that I predicted they'd be living together by August. I was right but I severely underestimated them. You see, not only had they planned to move in by May (that's 2 months in, if you're keeping score) but as of this weekend, they are engaged. That's right, engaged and I'm pissed.
Since they first started dating, Nate and I's relationship has changed dramatically. By dramatic change, I do mean completely evaporated. We used to be pretty tight, hanging out in groups but also doing things alone. We'd frequently see movies, eat, or go out together, but all that changed. Let me tell you, girlfriends ruin everything. A planned movie outing was no longer, after he had to pass it by her. Nate and I never dated, we weren't even friends with benefits, but for some reason I feel like an ex-boyfriend has suddenly gotten engaged. The worst part of it all is how I found out. I heard from my coworker, who heard it from another coworker, who saw it on Facebook. That's right, Facebook. He used to tell me things, a lot of things, but he couldn't even tell me this, major life-changing event? I guess it's good, since I know I'd have a hard time putting on a happy act for him. I believe my exact reaction was, WHhhhhat? followed by various forms of WTF? I had always talked to him about how fast they were moving with jokes stemming from my commitment phobic antics. But this is no longer a joke. After a 3 month relationship, he's engaged.
With my recent birthday, I was warned that I was now at the age when all my friends will start getting married. This has been nothing but the truth. At a high school friends wedding this past weekend, my friends and I discussed the recent explosion of engagements. In the past month it has caught on like wildfire, not even the normally levelheaded Nate has been safe from its rampant engulfing flames.
Since they first started dating, Nate and I's relationship has changed dramatically. By dramatic change, I do mean completely evaporated. We used to be pretty tight, hanging out in groups but also doing things alone. We'd frequently see movies, eat, or go out together, but all that changed. Let me tell you, girlfriends ruin everything. A planned movie outing was no longer, after he had to pass it by her. Nate and I never dated, we weren't even friends with benefits, but for some reason I feel like an ex-boyfriend has suddenly gotten engaged. The worst part of it all is how I found out. I heard from my coworker, who heard it from another coworker, who saw it on Facebook. That's right, Facebook. He used to tell me things, a lot of things, but he couldn't even tell me this, major life-changing event? I guess it's good, since I know I'd have a hard time putting on a happy act for him. I believe my exact reaction was, WHhhhhat? followed by various forms of WTF? I had always talked to him about how fast they were moving with jokes stemming from my commitment phobic antics. But this is no longer a joke. After a 3 month relationship, he's engaged.
With my recent birthday, I was warned that I was now at the age when all my friends will start getting married. This has been nothing but the truth. At a high school friends wedding this past weekend, my friends and I discussed the recent explosion of engagements. In the past month it has caught on like wildfire, not even the normally levelheaded Nate has been safe from its rampant engulfing flames.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Weekend Update
I was really looking forward to this weekend. Really, really. Mostly (okay, pretty much entirely) because John Boy was scheduled to return yesterday afternoon. But first, I had a date with The Highlander on Friday night.
The Highlander suggested we go to a place I had never heard of in a swanky uptown neighborhood. Hence the reason I had never heard of it. I'm more of a burgers and pizza kind of girl myself, but I assure you neither burgers nor pizza were on this menu. In fact, it was so nice, I'm not even sure what half the things on the menu were. (And there were live musicians! And cloth napkins on the table folded all fancy-like!) I ended up ordering the steak (which was, by the way, the most expensive thing on the menu, but the rest was seafood-not an option- and he actually recommended the steak to me), and it was that amazing steak that kind of just melts in your mouth it's so tender. Mmmmm...
But anyway, on to the actual date. It went pretty well, especially since I got The Highlander to do a bit more of the talking. I think he finds me and my antics highly amusing, which bodes well for me. After we had finished dessert (a chocolate flourless torte), he asked if I would be interested in going to see a movie. At the time, the weather was in the middle of an absolute downpour, so we decided just to wait out the rain, and make a decision then. But then we got to talking, and by the time we finished, it was 11:30, which is far too late for a movie. He never let me see the bill, but despite my deficiencies in the field of math, I know that with tax and tip, it easily came out to at least $100, which is more than anyone has ever spent on a date with me.
On Saturday, I was having a few people over for an afternoon cook-out, and had told John Boy he should come if possible. He said he would do his best to be there, but that he would have a friend with him, which was fine by me. Four hours after his flight was supposed to land, I got a text message from him saying that they had just landed, but that he would call me shortly. One hour went by, then two. I texted him back to ask (jokingly) if they weren't being allowed back in the country. Another hour went by, then another. Then I began to think, what if my joke wasn't so funny? What if he had a Bridget moment and someone had stuffed illegal substances into his bag and he was being detained at the airport? He finally called just after 11pm- 5 hours after he said he would call "shortly." He had not been detained at the airport after all. I knew he obviously couldn't come to my cook-out, and that's fine, but I was a bit peeved, and I'll tell you why.
John Boy is super-protective. If we've just done something together, but have taken separate cars (or after I drove back from his place), he requires me to call him once I am safely home, so that he knows I got home safely. Even when we're on the train, he insists on me sitting on the inside, and he takes the outside. (What, asks Grayer, does he think someone is going to carry you away?) I'm not really sure what he thinks will happen to me in an aisle seat on the subway, but it's kind of cute. What pisses me off is the double standard. Why wouldn't I be worried after he doesn't call hours after saying he will call shortly when he has always called when he says he will and he makes sure I call even when there's no reason to believe I've been kidnapped/carjacked/raped/murdered?
We only talked briefly last night, and he said he would call me tomorrow, but I have yet to hear from him. I know he still has his friend staying with him, but that friend just spent the last two weeks on vacation with him. He needs to go home so JB can over and play with me. And I know he's not my boyfriend, as Grayer reminded me, (which I had just told myself right before speaking with her) but that's hard to remember sometimes as he has let me know in several ways that he would really like to be my boyfriend. That's the problem with boys who are always so reliable. When they do disappoint, it's a double shot of it.
The Highlander suggested we go to a place I had never heard of in a swanky uptown neighborhood. Hence the reason I had never heard of it. I'm more of a burgers and pizza kind of girl myself, but I assure you neither burgers nor pizza were on this menu. In fact, it was so nice, I'm not even sure what half the things on the menu were. (And there were live musicians! And cloth napkins on the table folded all fancy-like!) I ended up ordering the steak (which was, by the way, the most expensive thing on the menu, but the rest was seafood-not an option- and he actually recommended the steak to me), and it was that amazing steak that kind of just melts in your mouth it's so tender. Mmmmm...
But anyway, on to the actual date. It went pretty well, especially since I got The Highlander to do a bit more of the talking. I think he finds me and my antics highly amusing, which bodes well for me. After we had finished dessert (a chocolate flourless torte), he asked if I would be interested in going to see a movie. At the time, the weather was in the middle of an absolute downpour, so we decided just to wait out the rain, and make a decision then. But then we got to talking, and by the time we finished, it was 11:30, which is far too late for a movie. He never let me see the bill, but despite my deficiencies in the field of math, I know that with tax and tip, it easily came out to at least $100, which is more than anyone has ever spent on a date with me.
On Saturday, I was having a few people over for an afternoon cook-out, and had told John Boy he should come if possible. He said he would do his best to be there, but that he would have a friend with him, which was fine by me. Four hours after his flight was supposed to land, I got a text message from him saying that they had just landed, but that he would call me shortly. One hour went by, then two. I texted him back to ask (jokingly) if they weren't being allowed back in the country. Another hour went by, then another. Then I began to think, what if my joke wasn't so funny? What if he had a Bridget moment and someone had stuffed illegal substances into his bag and he was being detained at the airport? He finally called just after 11pm- 5 hours after he said he would call "shortly." He had not been detained at the airport after all. I knew he obviously couldn't come to my cook-out, and that's fine, but I was a bit peeved, and I'll tell you why.
John Boy is super-protective. If we've just done something together, but have taken separate cars (or after I drove back from his place), he requires me to call him once I am safely home, so that he knows I got home safely. Even when we're on the train, he insists on me sitting on the inside, and he takes the outside. (What, asks Grayer, does he think someone is going to carry you away?) I'm not really sure what he thinks will happen to me in an aisle seat on the subway, but it's kind of cute. What pisses me off is the double standard. Why wouldn't I be worried after he doesn't call hours after saying he will call shortly when he has always called when he says he will and he makes sure I call even when there's no reason to believe I've been kidnapped/carjacked/raped/murdered?
We only talked briefly last night, and he said he would call me tomorrow, but I have yet to hear from him. I know he still has his friend staying with him, but that friend just spent the last two weeks on vacation with him. He needs to go home so JB can over and play with me. And I know he's not my boyfriend, as Grayer reminded me, (which I had just told myself right before speaking with her) but that's hard to remember sometimes as he has let me know in several ways that he would really like to be my boyfriend. That's the problem with boys who are always so reliable. When they do disappoint, it's a double shot of it.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Charming the Highlander
Saturday, I went out with The Highlander. He seemed excellent on paper, and I know I will need a distraction when John Boy is gone for good, so why not? We met up for ice cream, and in just a few minutes time I thought for sure I was going to need to send Grayer and Scarlet the SOS text. You know, the one where I text them the Danger Word (Bert!) and hopefully at least one of them receives it immediately, waits five minutes, calls me, then sings to me while I shout "Are you ok? Where are you? Of course, I'll be right there!" Then I can be put out of my misery, apologizing profusely, and hope he never calls again.
The Highlander, quite attractive and very nice, was just so awkward. Maybe it's just that (sadly) I've been doing this long enough, but I know that there are always going to be awkward pauses in conversation. Heck, there are pauses in conversations long into relationships, both romantic as well as platonic, they just become comfortable. Therefore, I know well enough not to panic, but The Highlander obviously doesn't know this. He was trying so hard, it was a bit endearing, but still terribly uncomfortable. We got our ice cream, and took off for a walk around the neighborhood (a neighborhood that we share, making him extremely geographically desirable) and the awkwardness eased up a bit. Eventually, we got back to where we started, and he suggested we get some dinner. I agreed, since at this point I'm pretty confident in my abilities to keep the conversation going. Dinner went pretty well, and clocked in at two hours (pretty solid, by date clock standards). I know I did more than my share of the talking, since all the "experts" say to let the man do 2/3 of the talking, but sometimes, you just have to step up to the plate. (And in case you're wondering, no, I'm not starting on a path to cougardom, he's nearly 6 years my senior.) I knew it had gone well, though, when the check came and he immediately grabbed it. Always a good sign.
Apparently dinner went so well, he even offered to do something else afterward, but I know enough to leave 'em wanting more, so I thanked him for the ice cream and dinner. He called me by 12:30pm the next day, and we are apparently going out again on Friday. (Of course, I've heard that one before, so I don't want to get too psyched up for it.) And the sad part? I keep forgetting about Friday and looking forward to Saturday. What's Saturday, you ask? The day John Boy returns. Oh, crap.
The Highlander, quite attractive and very nice, was just so awkward. Maybe it's just that (sadly) I've been doing this long enough, but I know that there are always going to be awkward pauses in conversation. Heck, there are pauses in conversations long into relationships, both romantic as well as platonic, they just become comfortable. Therefore, I know well enough not to panic, but The Highlander obviously doesn't know this. He was trying so hard, it was a bit endearing, but still terribly uncomfortable. We got our ice cream, and took off for a walk around the neighborhood (a neighborhood that we share, making him extremely geographically desirable) and the awkwardness eased up a bit. Eventually, we got back to where we started, and he suggested we get some dinner. I agreed, since at this point I'm pretty confident in my abilities to keep the conversation going. Dinner went pretty well, and clocked in at two hours (pretty solid, by date clock standards). I know I did more than my share of the talking, since all the "experts" say to let the man do 2/3 of the talking, but sometimes, you just have to step up to the plate. (And in case you're wondering, no, I'm not starting on a path to cougardom, he's nearly 6 years my senior.) I knew it had gone well, though, when the check came and he immediately grabbed it. Always a good sign.
Apparently dinner went so well, he even offered to do something else afterward, but I know enough to leave 'em wanting more, so I thanked him for the ice cream and dinner. He called me by 12:30pm the next day, and we are apparently going out again on Friday. (Of course, I've heard that one before, so I don't want to get too psyched up for it.) And the sad part? I keep forgetting about Friday and looking forward to Saturday. What's Saturday, you ask? The day John Boy returns. Oh, crap.
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Happy Birthday, Grayer
Today is Grayer's birthday. (So everyone should wish her a Happy Birthday.) Another year older, and STILL single. Inching closer and closer to spinsterhood. (tick, tock...) And hey, you've already got the cat! I say this dripping with sarcasm of course, only because I know that there are smug marrieds out there making ridiculous statements like that. (That and Grayer is the youngest member of the WWBD? team. If she has already reached spinsterhood, I may as well just hang up my ovaries and call it a day.)
And if you were Bridget, you would not only be thinking about how everyone else has crossed over to The Dark Side (i.e. become a smug married), but also be stressing about how to celebrate. Dinner party? Out to a restaurant?
Oh God. What to do? Wish had not been born but immaculately burst into being in similar, though not identical, manner to Jesus then would not have had to have birthday. Sympathize with Jesus in sense of embarrassment he must, and perhaps should, feel over two-millennia-old social imposition of own birthday on large areas of globe.
So don't feel guilty about the fact that other people are calling, sending you cards, or even gifts (I hope you like mine), but instead enjoy it. And when the parentals and unpleasant aunts sing to you over the phone, just roll your eyes and tune them out until the awkwardness goes away. Unless, of course, they sing to you in person, then grit your teeth and smile. It only lasts 30 seconds. Not only will I not sing to you, but I will eat a piece of cake, or some ice cream, or maybe even both, just for you.
And if you were Bridget, you would not only be thinking about how everyone else has crossed over to The Dark Side (i.e. become a smug married), but also be stressing about how to celebrate. Dinner party? Out to a restaurant?
Oh God. What to do? Wish had not been born but immaculately burst into being in similar, though not identical, manner to Jesus then would not have had to have birthday. Sympathize with Jesus in sense of embarrassment he must, and perhaps should, feel over two-millennia-old social imposition of own birthday on large areas of globe.
So don't feel guilty about the fact that other people are calling, sending you cards, or even gifts (I hope you like mine), but instead enjoy it. And when the parentals and unpleasant aunts sing to you over the phone, just roll your eyes and tune them out until the awkwardness goes away. Unless, of course, they sing to you in person, then grit your teeth and smile. It only lasts 30 seconds. Not only will I not sing to you, but I will eat a piece of cake, or some ice cream, or maybe even both, just for you.
Friday, June 5, 2009
Yes Virginia, Love really IS a battlefield
Pat Benatar was a genius. Love really is a battlefield. It's chaotic. It's full of rash decisions that you're positive are right a the time, but you can never really assess the damage until all the dust has settled. And it can surprise you, just like an ambush.
We are young, heartache to heartache we stand
No promises, no demands
Love is a battlefield
We are strong, no one can tell us were wrong
Searchin our hearts for so long,
both of us knowing...Love is a battlefield
The other night I went to a baseball game with McNerdy. I hadn't seen him in ages, and John Boy is out of the country. When I got back, Scarlet asked me how the game, and McNerdy, was. I responded with, "I realized that McNerdy is not nearly as much fun as John Boy." Scarlet laughed and told me there was a time she never would have guessed she would hear something like that from me.
I agree. There was a time when I thought McNerdy was the cat's pajamas. He and I were as close as you could get to a guarantee. It was really only a matter of time. He didn't seem all that comfortable with an actual relationship, but I was convinced I was the one who would change all that. But he kept stringing me along until I couldn't figure out if we were in fact just friends. People asked what was going on with us, and I would answer that I had no idea.
You're beggin me to go, you're makin me stay
Why do you hurt me so bad?
It would help me to know
Do I stand in your way, or am I the best thing you've had?
Not really a good sign when you're one of the people involved. Eventually, he realized he better make a move or lose my devotion, so he did, then continue to string me along without telling me what was going on, until he finally socked me in the gut with a big fat dose of reality. Even after he ripped my heart out and stomped on it a few times, I still couldn't figure out what went wrong with such a seemingly sure thing.
Of course hindsight is 20/20, and now I realize that McNerdy had a big fat stick up his ass (and while it's loosened up a bit, it's still up there). And while he is still a good friend (I am apparently a more forgiving person than I thought I could be), I realized the other night that I would much rather be hanging out with John Boy- and not just because of the benefits that come later. McNerdy wouldn't hold my stack of All-Star ballots, lining them up for me so I could punch out five at a time, and John Boy wouldn't roll his eyes at me for doing so. Last week John Boy really, really wanted me to come out to his place to hang out and grill with some of his friends. And while I initially scoffed at driving an entire hour out of the city (how quickly I've become a city snob), I was happy to go, and had an excellent time. Then I realized that in the year that was McNerdy's and my imaginary relationship, he never once invited me onto his turf. Of course, I noticed this at the time, but I brushed it off. We were a sure thing, you know.
Once of the things that convinced me that McNerdy was so perfect, was that he was exactly my type. As the name would imply, he was the perfect dose of nerd. On the skinny side, glasses, well-read, prefers staying in with a friend over going out. As much as McNerdy is my type, John Boy is not. He's big and burly, and likes his beer. I can barely tell you what color his hair is, because I've seen him without a baseball cap once, (and that was in my room; it was dark...) and he has tattoos! Three of them! Which I refuse to let him show me. He voted for George W. Bush (gah!), but then rectified that by voting for Obama last year. And as I discovered last week when I couldn't breathe, he easily outweighs every guy I've ever been, er, horizontal with by at least 50 pounds. But when I say jump, he asks "how far?" and has emailed me pretty much every day from the tropical beach he's been hanging out on (and did I mention that he told me I should accompany him and his friends multiple times? My bank account didn't really allow for it.) And not only is he not intimidated by my sporty prowess, he took me to the driving range and I believe was a bit turned on by my natural affinity for a 9-iron. (Had our dad been a pushy sports parent, Grayer and I would be the Williams sisters of golf, I swear.)
But all of this really doesn't matter, since he will be making himself geographically unavailable in just a few weeks. I remember when I was a bit relieved when he told me this; I needed an easy out. "Be careful what you wish for" is a cliche' for a reason. As Scarlet pointed out, I'm going to need a distraction when he's gone, so I'm dragging myself out to meet The Highlander tomorrow for ice cream.
No promises, no demands...Love is a battlefield.
We are young, heartache to heartache we stand
No promises, no demands
Love is a battlefield
We are strong, no one can tell us were wrong
Searchin our hearts for so long,
both of us knowing...Love is a battlefield
The other night I went to a baseball game with McNerdy. I hadn't seen him in ages, and John Boy is out of the country. When I got back, Scarlet asked me how the game, and McNerdy, was. I responded with, "I realized that McNerdy is not nearly as much fun as John Boy." Scarlet laughed and told me there was a time she never would have guessed she would hear something like that from me.
I agree. There was a time when I thought McNerdy was the cat's pajamas. He and I were as close as you could get to a guarantee. It was really only a matter of time. He didn't seem all that comfortable with an actual relationship, but I was convinced I was the one who would change all that. But he kept stringing me along until I couldn't figure out if we were in fact just friends. People asked what was going on with us, and I would answer that I had no idea.
You're beggin me to go, you're makin me stay
Why do you hurt me so bad?
It would help me to know
Do I stand in your way, or am I the best thing you've had?
Not really a good sign when you're one of the people involved. Eventually, he realized he better make a move or lose my devotion, so he did, then continue to string me along without telling me what was going on, until he finally socked me in the gut with a big fat dose of reality. Even after he ripped my heart out and stomped on it a few times, I still couldn't figure out what went wrong with such a seemingly sure thing.
Of course hindsight is 20/20, and now I realize that McNerdy had a big fat stick up his ass (and while it's loosened up a bit, it's still up there). And while he is still a good friend (I am apparently a more forgiving person than I thought I could be), I realized the other night that I would much rather be hanging out with John Boy- and not just because of the benefits that come later. McNerdy wouldn't hold my stack of All-Star ballots, lining them up for me so I could punch out five at a time, and John Boy wouldn't roll his eyes at me for doing so. Last week John Boy really, really wanted me to come out to his place to hang out and grill with some of his friends. And while I initially scoffed at driving an entire hour out of the city (how quickly I've become a city snob), I was happy to go, and had an excellent time. Then I realized that in the year that was McNerdy's and my imaginary relationship, he never once invited me onto his turf. Of course, I noticed this at the time, but I brushed it off. We were a sure thing, you know.
Once of the things that convinced me that McNerdy was so perfect, was that he was exactly my type. As the name would imply, he was the perfect dose of nerd. On the skinny side, glasses, well-read, prefers staying in with a friend over going out. As much as McNerdy is my type, John Boy is not. He's big and burly, and likes his beer. I can barely tell you what color his hair is, because I've seen him without a baseball cap once, (and that was in my room; it was dark...) and he has tattoos! Three of them! Which I refuse to let him show me. He voted for George W. Bush (gah!), but then rectified that by voting for Obama last year. And as I discovered last week when I couldn't breathe, he easily outweighs every guy I've ever been, er, horizontal with by at least 50 pounds. But when I say jump, he asks "how far?" and has emailed me pretty much every day from the tropical beach he's been hanging out on (and did I mention that he told me I should accompany him and his friends multiple times? My bank account didn't really allow for it.) And not only is he not intimidated by my sporty prowess, he took me to the driving range and I believe was a bit turned on by my natural affinity for a 9-iron. (Had our dad been a pushy sports parent, Grayer and I would be the Williams sisters of golf, I swear.)
But all of this really doesn't matter, since he will be making himself geographically unavailable in just a few weeks. I remember when I was a bit relieved when he told me this; I needed an easy out. "Be careful what you wish for" is a cliche' for a reason. As Scarlet pointed out, I'm going to need a distraction when he's gone, so I'm dragging myself out to meet The Highlander tomorrow for ice cream.
No promises, no demands...Love is a battlefield.
Monday, June 1, 2009
Online dating is the fast food of dating...
Both Violet and I have been feeling a little exasperated with online dating. It seems that there are so many more undesirables than suitable bachelors in my pool of geographically desirable men on match.com. While I am trying to put forth some effort and give all the respectable guys a chance, recently I find myself more drawn to some of the guys I’m meeting through friends or my meetup group. I contemplated why this might be and came to the realization that online dating is the fast food of dating.
Don’t get me wrong I still recommend it to anyone who is single and looking for a better way to meet someone than a loud bar but it does have its flaws. Online dating allows you to meet a lot of guys within a short period of time but like fast food it often leaves you feeling dissatisfied and guilty. Furthermore the prospective men are often not as appealing in person as they appear on their profile pictures. Yes you do correspond prior to meeting but often this is an exchange of history, goals, interests, etc. that give you a false impression that you actually know the person. It becomes kind of methodical and takes some of the romance out of the courtship process. You skip over the introductory stage where you feel giddy over little things that the guys says or does. True it probably isn’t that much of a loss that Violet and I are spared some of the “does he like me” conversations but isn’t that part of the fun? Sometimes I just want to enjoy the a three course meal complete with the anticipation!
So while my online dating inbox is flooded with winks from less than ideal suitors it is a relief to meet men in the real world on occasion that have potential. I have been crushing a bit on this guy that I met through some friends. He has definitely flirted with me and there is chemistry. Over dinner with friends he even reached across the table and patted my hand on one occassion. However, he isn't exactly pursuing me so if I was perfectly honest with myself I'd probably have to admit that he is just not that into me. Then there is my friend Meetup Matt. I met him awhile ago and then started dating The Engineer. I hung out with him and some of the other meetup people this past weekend there was some flirtation involved (perhaps aided by sexy panties, heels, and alcohol). I’m not sure if any of these flirtations will go anywhere but sometimes after a string of bad first dates a girl just needs a little harmless flirting to reassure herself that she's still got it!!
Don’t get me wrong I still recommend it to anyone who is single and looking for a better way to meet someone than a loud bar but it does have its flaws. Online dating allows you to meet a lot of guys within a short period of time but like fast food it often leaves you feeling dissatisfied and guilty. Furthermore the prospective men are often not as appealing in person as they appear on their profile pictures. Yes you do correspond prior to meeting but often this is an exchange of history, goals, interests, etc. that give you a false impression that you actually know the person. It becomes kind of methodical and takes some of the romance out of the courtship process. You skip over the introductory stage where you feel giddy over little things that the guys says or does. True it probably isn’t that much of a loss that Violet and I are spared some of the “does he like me” conversations but isn’t that part of the fun? Sometimes I just want to enjoy the a three course meal complete with the anticipation!
So while my online dating inbox is flooded with winks from less than ideal suitors it is a relief to meet men in the real world on occasion that have potential. I have been crushing a bit on this guy that I met through some friends. He has definitely flirted with me and there is chemistry. Over dinner with friends he even reached across the table and patted my hand on one occassion. However, he isn't exactly pursuing me so if I was perfectly honest with myself I'd probably have to admit that he is just not that into me. Then there is my friend Meetup Matt. I met him awhile ago and then started dating The Engineer. I hung out with him and some of the other meetup people this past weekend there was some flirtation involved (perhaps aided by sexy panties, heels, and alcohol). I’m not sure if any of these flirtations will go anywhere but sometimes after a string of bad first dates a girl just needs a little harmless flirting to reassure herself that she's still got it!!
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