"I'm a little perplexed by dating habits (if you can call them that) of British men. Here I thought all British men were Colin Firth/Hugh Grant types who learn another language and spontaneously fly to Portugal to ask their lady loves to marriage them. It's like the movies aren't real or something."
Vi, as usual, has hit the nail on the head.
I'm very proud of the fact that my blogging means that WWBD? is international. But this comes at a cost. I have to ruin the Colin Firth/Hugh Grant/Mark Darcy/Mr Darcy dream. It doesn't exist. At all. Or rather, they don't exist, at all. Oh the accent exists. But when you hear it you automatically think 'snob' or 'public school'. Public school over here is not a good thing. Public school types are conceited and arrogant and not in the good Mr Darcy type way.
And now for the dating habits of British men. They don't exist either. A guy over here has NEVER asked for my number. I am forever jealous of Vi's emails where she mentions a guy who asks for her number and then, actually calls. Reference: Popcorn Man. This is how it works in the UK:
* Guy and girl meet in bar
* Copious amounts of alcohol is consumed
* Guy and girl start flirting
* Some type of physical action occurs
* Numbers are exchanged
* Congratulations! You know have a boyfriend / girlfriend. (This may only last for a few hours)
Sometimes you meet up again and then start getting to know each other. There is no (sober) interaction involving friendly chat and then the guy takes your number. I'm sure there is the odd occasion where this does occur- I've yet to witness or experience it.
It's extremely frustrating. I would love for a guy to ask for my number. Even if I wasn't interested I would just like it to happen. I would also like to try the American way of dating. Yes, I'm sure it has its pitfalls, but it seems a heck of a lot better then the system we have over here.
What makes it even more frustrating for me when reading Vi's emails is that I like American men. I don't get the appeal of the British guy (except Mark Darcy, but he is, sadly, a literary figure), they're scrawny and have a severe lack confidence amongst other things. But an American guy? Yes please! You may disagree but they do say that the grass is always greener.
You may think that my opinion on American guys is unfounded and I'm not cutting British guys much slack. So it seems only fair that I conduct a social experiment - and I have a degree in Sociology so I can conduct social experiments. This time tomorrow I will be on a plane heading to the US for the first time in 10 years. Not only am I visiting the wonderful Violet but she has said, nay promised, that I will get to meet lots of cute American men. I can chat to them, see if they really are the confident and funny guys I think they are. I can also see if they actually do this asking for your number thing I hear so many things about (obviously not mine as my weird accent will give it away I'm not from those parts, but I could observe it happening to others).
So I will make the effort to talk to cute guys and report back to you all. It's all in the name of WWBD? Not for personal enjoyment or anything. And I am sorry to ruin the 'British Man Fantasy'. Really I am.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Pistachio Ice Cream... a crime?
I was recently flipping through an issue of The Economist (which is something I do all the time, I swear) when I came across an article about America's unjust sex laws. Naturally, I was intrigued and started to read. Especially because most of the article was about sex laws in my state. It was about a woman who is forced to register as a sex offender because of oral sex she performed in high school. Turns out, in this state, oral sex was included in the state's sodomy laws. That included oral sex between consensual married couples. So in other words, pistachio ice cream of any variety was outlawed until 1998 (!), when it was finally repealed. Can you imagine? Pistachio ice cream illegal? This brings to mind a few questions:
1. How on earth did they police this law?
2. How many people broke the law? My guess is not as many people who wanted the law to be broken on them.
3. What kind of person came up with this law?
I don't think that's what most people have in mind when they think of being handcuffed while engaging in such an act...
1. How on earth did they police this law?
2. How many people broke the law? My guess is not as many people who wanted the law to be broken on them.
3. What kind of person came up with this law?
I don't think that's what most people have in mind when they think of being handcuffed while engaging in such an act...
Saturday, March 27, 2010
A Dicey Situation
We officially have a Situation.
The Cute Neighbor hasn't officially become an imaginary boyfriend, but he is definitely a Situation. Meaning, if something doesn't change soon, I'm going to have to actually say something, and we all know I don't like having to say things.
The problem is, The Cute Neighbor and I could not be more of a couple if we were actually a couple. I eat dinner at his place most nights of the week, and in one instance, breakfast. Not because I spent the night there, but because he made blueberry pancakes and told me to stop by before work. So I did.
I think Wednesday summed up our coupley-ness perfectly. It was a gorgeous day, and he kept texting me, asking when I would be home so we could go out and play. I hadn't been in the house 5 minutes when he walked in the front door. (Like I said, we don't bother to knock anymore.) We brought our gloves and a ball to the park to play catch. When we had had enough of that, we walked to another park, where we parked ourselves on top of a hill overlooking the park and the city. When we got chilly, we went to the grocery store to pick up pizzas and a bottle of wine, then walked back to my place to eat said pizzas and drink the wine while watching a movie. Somehow, by the time we finished the movie, we were cuddling. Not quite sure how that even happened. My roommate even asked me the next day if she had interrupted a make-out session when she got home. She hadn't. I was actually sure he was going to go in for the kiss, but for some reason he didn't. Actually, I can tell you why he didn't: We're good friends. Neither of us want to mess with a good thing.
He went out of town the next day, which is probably a good thing. It gives me time without him to figure out what I actually want from him. I think I do actually want him to kiss me, but then I think it would be awkward to kiss such a good friend. I mean, if you think about it, you spend most of your first kisses with people you don't know all that well. You really don't have that much to lose. But kiss someone who knows so much about you and you about them, and the awkwardness factor sky rockets if it doesn't go well.
As Scarlet pointed out to me, I'm probably compartmentalizing my man friends to create one boyfriend. I get the companionship with The Cute Neighbor and the physical from the Dark Horse. Although, the physical doesn't actually happen often enough to create a boyfriend. When I explained the pancakes and our Wednesday leading up to her coming home to find us cuddling on the couch, my roommate said, "You're definitely dating." Only we're not dating.
If nothing is going to happen, though, I'm going to have to put the friendly cuddling to a halt. That only leads down a dangerous, dark alley, with a Dead End that will take ages to crawl out of.
The Cute Neighbor hasn't officially become an imaginary boyfriend, but he is definitely a Situation. Meaning, if something doesn't change soon, I'm going to have to actually say something, and we all know I don't like having to say things.
The problem is, The Cute Neighbor and I could not be more of a couple if we were actually a couple. I eat dinner at his place most nights of the week, and in one instance, breakfast. Not because I spent the night there, but because he made blueberry pancakes and told me to stop by before work. So I did.
I think Wednesday summed up our coupley-ness perfectly. It was a gorgeous day, and he kept texting me, asking when I would be home so we could go out and play. I hadn't been in the house 5 minutes when he walked in the front door. (Like I said, we don't bother to knock anymore.) We brought our gloves and a ball to the park to play catch. When we had had enough of that, we walked to another park, where we parked ourselves on top of a hill overlooking the park and the city. When we got chilly, we went to the grocery store to pick up pizzas and a bottle of wine, then walked back to my place to eat said pizzas and drink the wine while watching a movie. Somehow, by the time we finished the movie, we were cuddling. Not quite sure how that even happened. My roommate even asked me the next day if she had interrupted a make-out session when she got home. She hadn't. I was actually sure he was going to go in for the kiss, but for some reason he didn't. Actually, I can tell you why he didn't: We're good friends. Neither of us want to mess with a good thing.
He went out of town the next day, which is probably a good thing. It gives me time without him to figure out what I actually want from him. I think I do actually want him to kiss me, but then I think it would be awkward to kiss such a good friend. I mean, if you think about it, you spend most of your first kisses with people you don't know all that well. You really don't have that much to lose. But kiss someone who knows so much about you and you about them, and the awkwardness factor sky rockets if it doesn't go well.
As Scarlet pointed out to me, I'm probably compartmentalizing my man friends to create one boyfriend. I get the companionship with The Cute Neighbor and the physical from the Dark Horse. Although, the physical doesn't actually happen often enough to create a boyfriend. When I explained the pancakes and our Wednesday leading up to her coming home to find us cuddling on the couch, my roommate said, "You're definitely dating." Only we're not dating.
If nothing is going to happen, though, I'm going to have to put the friendly cuddling to a halt. That only leads down a dangerous, dark alley, with a Dead End that will take ages to crawl out of.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
w4w
With all this talk of online dating I feel the need to make a confession. I've been online. I've posted ads, I've put up some particulars. What I like to do, where I work, what I'm looking for. The emails have come flooding in. I weed out the crazies and contact the pretending-not-to-be-crazies. We've emailed back and forth a bit giving more details. We've agreed to meet up. We've exchanged pleasantries, but I always leave feeling disappointed, never to hear from them again. How is this not online dating you ask? For starters, there's no possibility for sex. Nor is there potential for lifelong bliss of the romantic sort. You see, I'm not looking for a man, I'm looking for a roommate.
"What do you post for...woman seeking woman?" asked my uncle. No, that would get me a very different type of roommate (though not one that would completely surprise my family). I'm not really into that though what I'm doing can't be too far from that cyber world. Though I've never dated online before, but I'm pretty sure this is just like it...only worse. There are two major lines of evidence to support such a claim:
"What do you post for...woman seeking woman?" asked my uncle. No, that would get me a very different type of roommate (though not one that would completely surprise my family). I'm not really into that though what I'm doing can't be too far from that cyber world. Though I've never dated online before, but I'm pretty sure this is just like it...only worse. There are two major lines of evidence to support such a claim:
- You basically have to write a personal ad, making yourself sound awesome, responsible and clean (this is the part people lie about) to entice someone to want you. But this isn't just to find someone to go out to coffee with. This isn't just a few dates. This is a commitment. I have to live with this person. I have to share a bathroom with them. I have to come home to them. I have to overhear things in the night. Makes the freedom of online dating look pretty good doesn't it?
- In the case of online dating, one would presumably agree to meet in a public place. It's only logical. I have to invite them into my home. This freaks me out. A God-fearing Christian woman from the internet can turn into a 40 year old man with a foot fetish in no time flat. Every time I open the door, I'm expect to see a bad comb over and beer belly. In fact, I have told my friend at work that if I don't show up in the morning, to check my email for a potential has most likely killed me.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Throwing in the Cyber Towel
Just under a month ago I signed up for online dating. At first, I found it lots of fun. Lots of guys were adding me to their favourites, I was getting emails, it was all good. I even took the plunge and met up with someone. After making it through the first date I was all go to meet up with more people. And then, as quickly as the emails and favourites came flooding in, they disappeared.
It's been over a week and nothing. Nada. It was a little depressing at first, I find rejection difficult enough to deal with without it coming from someone I haven't even met. Vi said that online dating can be streaky and I would agree with that. So I'm not too bothered about the quiet spell.
Except that the more I think about it, the more I want to throw in the cyber towel. I still don't like the idea of it. I'd much rather meet someone by chance then meet them because they saw my profile. 'But', I hear you exclaim, 'so would most people'! So true. But I don't think I've given leaving things to fate or whatever you want to call it enough of a chance. I'm getting more of a social life in London, the more of a social life the more people you meet.
I'll keep my profile until May because that's when my 'membership' expires. After that I won't be renewing it. I'm glad I tried it, and it's nice knowing that it's there. But for now, I'll try meeting guys the old-fashioned way.
It's been over a week and nothing. Nada. It was a little depressing at first, I find rejection difficult enough to deal with without it coming from someone I haven't even met. Vi said that online dating can be streaky and I would agree with that. So I'm not too bothered about the quiet spell.
Except that the more I think about it, the more I want to throw in the cyber towel. I still don't like the idea of it. I'd much rather meet someone by chance then meet them because they saw my profile. 'But', I hear you exclaim, 'so would most people'! So true. But I don't think I've given leaving things to fate or whatever you want to call it enough of a chance. I'm getting more of a social life in London, the more of a social life the more people you meet.
I'll keep my profile until May because that's when my 'membership' expires. After that I won't be renewing it. I'm glad I tried it, and it's nice knowing that it's there. But for now, I'll try meeting guys the old-fashioned way.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Please keep the P out of the dating ool
I stumbled across this gem through one of our followers. Finally, a man's advice to online dating profiles. I think we can all learn a thing or two from this one, whether we're online or not.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
We are so NOT a couple!
Seriously, the cute neighbor and I are NOT a couple.
Even if we spent our Saturday grocery shopping for a picnic and hiking. Lots of friends do that.
Even if we came home from our hike and walked to Rita's to get free Italian ice on the first day of spring. I mean, we wouldn't have even known there was free Rita's if my mom hadn't called to remind me. I think my mom is this close to having a problem when it comes to Italian ice. And yes, we did discuss mini-break options, but that certainly doesn't make us a couple.
Even if we came home from Rita's and cooked dinner together, we are still NOT a couple. Lots of people cook dinner together. And just because we made a hand-made thank you card for the out-of-town friend we stayed with last weekend and signed it: Love, Violet and the cute neighbor, with a cute stick figure drawing of us sharing their futon. And just because he gave me a foot rub while I fell asleep on his couch does not make us a couple.
Now that I read this back to myself, it sounds like a smug married Saturday if ever there was one, doesn't it? BUT if I point out that I was late for grocery shopping and hiking because I had spent Friday night with the Dark Horse, and that one of the main topics of conversation with the Cute Neighbor is about all the sex he's had over the years, then it's clear that we're not a couple. Because if we were, or even if he were an imaginary boyfriend, I really, really, REALLY wouldn't want to hear all the details about past lovers.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to get some sleep, since the cute neighbor is making blueberry pancakes in the morning. On a Monday! What a nice way to start off the week.
Even if we spent our Saturday grocery shopping for a picnic and hiking. Lots of friends do that.
Even if we came home from our hike and walked to Rita's to get free Italian ice on the first day of spring. I mean, we wouldn't have even known there was free Rita's if my mom hadn't called to remind me. I think my mom is this close to having a problem when it comes to Italian ice. And yes, we did discuss mini-break options, but that certainly doesn't make us a couple.
Even if we came home from Rita's and cooked dinner together, we are still NOT a couple. Lots of people cook dinner together. And just because we made a hand-made thank you card for the out-of-town friend we stayed with last weekend and signed it: Love, Violet and the cute neighbor, with a cute stick figure drawing of us sharing their futon. And just because he gave me a foot rub while I fell asleep on his couch does not make us a couple.
Now that I read this back to myself, it sounds like a smug married Saturday if ever there was one, doesn't it? BUT if I point out that I was late for grocery shopping and hiking because I had spent Friday night with the Dark Horse, and that one of the main topics of conversation with the Cute Neighbor is about all the sex he's had over the years, then it's clear that we're not a couple. Because if we were, or even if he were an imaginary boyfriend, I really, really, REALLY wouldn't want to hear all the details about past lovers.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to get some sleep, since the cute neighbor is making blueberry pancakes in the morning. On a Monday! What a nice way to start off the week.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
First Date Done!
Apologies WWBD? I have neglected you so. However, I have set aside some time to pay you the attention you so rightly deserve!
Friday night, for once, was date night. I took the plunge and met up with someone I met online. We had been emailing for awhile and his emails were friendly and funny so I decided that what was the point in joining a dating site if I wasn't going to be brave and meet someone.
We arranged to meet at a particular underground station. There was a bit of confusion on my part because this particular underground station has about 6 different exits, but I managed in the end!
Harry Potter (he works in films and has worked on the Harry Potter movies) and I went for a very nice dinner. Conversation started a bit stilted but luckily I love movies so we found plenty to talk about. I felt relaxed and comfortable around him and I was having a good time. After dinner we headed to another place for a drink and then to the underground station where he said he would like to see me again and then we headed our separate ways. I've had a few friendly texts from him since then.
Conclusion? I had a good time and I'm glad I went. He's a nice guy and we got on well. I don't want to make any final decisions based on a first date but in terms of romance? I didn't really get any of those type vibes. However, as Vi said, she felt the same way about John Boy...so if he asks me out again I'll say yes. I'm just glad I got the first date out of the way!
Friday night, for once, was date night. I took the plunge and met up with someone I met online. We had been emailing for awhile and his emails were friendly and funny so I decided that what was the point in joining a dating site if I wasn't going to be brave and meet someone.
We arranged to meet at a particular underground station. There was a bit of confusion on my part because this particular underground station has about 6 different exits, but I managed in the end!
Harry Potter (he works in films and has worked on the Harry Potter movies) and I went for a very nice dinner. Conversation started a bit stilted but luckily I love movies so we found plenty to talk about. I felt relaxed and comfortable around him and I was having a good time. After dinner we headed to another place for a drink and then to the underground station where he said he would like to see me again and then we headed our separate ways. I've had a few friendly texts from him since then.
Conclusion? I had a good time and I'm glad I went. He's a nice guy and we got on well. I don't want to make any final decisions based on a first date but in terms of romance? I didn't really get any of those type vibes. However, as Vi said, she felt the same way about John Boy...so if he asks me out again I'll say yes. I'm just glad I got the first date out of the way!
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
The Replacement Boyfriend
I've found myself a replacement boyfriend.
I've waited for him to come home from work so we can go out to dinner. We eat actual, home cooked meals together while discussing our day. I don't even knock upon entering his apartment. I know what he looks like in his underwear.
No, he's not imaginary. As it clearly states in the WWBD? dating dictionary, an imaginary boyfriend (n.) is a Boy who hangs out with you a lot, enjoys your company and making out with you, but will not commit to the title of Boyfriend. Takes on many 'boyfriend-like' responsibilities, calls you frequently, yet disappoints you often. Not to be confused with "Friends with Benefits."
There is a difference between a replacement boyfriend and an imaginary boyfriend. A replacement boyfriend is a boy you hang out with very often, almost to excess, on a strictly platonic basis, and takes the place of actually having to find someone with which to have an actual relationship.
This is what has happened to the cute neighbor and me. I've come to realize I've been spending more time with him than I would an actual boyfriend. Yes, he does fit some of the definition of an IB: He hangs out with me a lot, enjoys my company, and calls frequently. (In fact, he called me today to ask if I would pick him up after he was hit by a car while riding his bike. He's fine. His bike is not.) But I have never once made out with him, and he won't commit to the title of Boyfriend because we're not even remotely dating. (Although when I caught a ride with him and his parents to his birthday dinner- which other friends were attending- it felt an awful lot like being 14 years old and going on a date, with his parents in the front and us in the back. Not that I ever went out on a date at the age of 14.) In fact, I had never even considered the possibility of dating him. Until this weekend.
A BFF of mine just moved back to the country after several years of living in The Most God-forsaken Place on Earth. (Despite being in The Most God-forsaken Place on Earth, she still managed to come home with a fiance. Seriously.) I decided to take a weekend road trip to visit her and the new fiance over the weekend, and asked the cute neighbor if he wanted to join me. It's always good to have someone along for a road trip to navigate and pay for gas. It was a fun drive. We played Mad Libs. Sang along out of tune to 80s music. He picked the cashews out of the nut mix so I wouldn't have to eat them.
While we've always had a flirty friendship, we've never really given off a couple-y vibe. At some point in the span of Friday and Saturday, that seemed to change. My theory was confirmed when my friend, also named Violet, cornered me while the cute neighbor was at the bar buying the next round to ask me why on earth we weren't a couple. My initial reason for not wanting to date him is that I knew too much about him. He's been around the block a few times. And then a few times more. But when The Other Violet was pointing out that we act like a couple, argue like a couple, and have undeniable chemistry, I was having a hard time defending my initial reason.
Now I'm just confused. Is it just because spring is upon us and I need a man? But then again, he was more than willing to don tight pants and a billowy white shirt to show up at a party as an ice dancer, and how many men are willing to do that? I love cheesy shit like that! While we did share a futon over the weekend, nothing happened, but I don't know how much of that was my previous attitude- in that I actually told him nothing would ever happen between us- or his not being interested. I'm so confused.
Help.
I've waited for him to come home from work so we can go out to dinner. We eat actual, home cooked meals together while discussing our day. I don't even knock upon entering his apartment. I know what he looks like in his underwear.
No, he's not imaginary. As it clearly states in the WWBD? dating dictionary, an imaginary boyfriend (n.) is a Boy who hangs out with you a lot, enjoys your company and making out with you, but will not commit to the title of Boyfriend. Takes on many 'boyfriend-like' responsibilities, calls you frequently, yet disappoints you often. Not to be confused with "Friends with Benefits."
There is a difference between a replacement boyfriend and an imaginary boyfriend. A replacement boyfriend is a boy you hang out with very often, almost to excess, on a strictly platonic basis, and takes the place of actually having to find someone with which to have an actual relationship.
This is what has happened to the cute neighbor and me. I've come to realize I've been spending more time with him than I would an actual boyfriend. Yes, he does fit some of the definition of an IB: He hangs out with me a lot, enjoys my company, and calls frequently. (In fact, he called me today to ask if I would pick him up after he was hit by a car while riding his bike. He's fine. His bike is not.) But I have never once made out with him, and he won't commit to the title of Boyfriend because we're not even remotely dating. (Although when I caught a ride with him and his parents to his birthday dinner- which other friends were attending- it felt an awful lot like being 14 years old and going on a date, with his parents in the front and us in the back. Not that I ever went out on a date at the age of 14.) In fact, I had never even considered the possibility of dating him. Until this weekend.
A BFF of mine just moved back to the country after several years of living in The Most God-forsaken Place on Earth. (Despite being in The Most God-forsaken Place on Earth, she still managed to come home with a fiance. Seriously.) I decided to take a weekend road trip to visit her and the new fiance over the weekend, and asked the cute neighbor if he wanted to join me. It's always good to have someone along for a road trip to navigate and pay for gas. It was a fun drive. We played Mad Libs. Sang along out of tune to 80s music. He picked the cashews out of the nut mix so I wouldn't have to eat them.
While we've always had a flirty friendship, we've never really given off a couple-y vibe. At some point in the span of Friday and Saturday, that seemed to change. My theory was confirmed when my friend, also named Violet, cornered me while the cute neighbor was at the bar buying the next round to ask me why on earth we weren't a couple. My initial reason for not wanting to date him is that I knew too much about him. He's been around the block a few times. And then a few times more. But when The Other Violet was pointing out that we act like a couple, argue like a couple, and have undeniable chemistry, I was having a hard time defending my initial reason.
Now I'm just confused. Is it just because spring is upon us and I need a man? But then again, he was more than willing to don tight pants and a billowy white shirt to show up at a party as an ice dancer, and how many men are willing to do that? I love cheesy shit like that! While we did share a futon over the weekend, nothing happened, but I don't know how much of that was my previous attitude- in that I actually told him nothing would ever happen between us- or his not being interested. I'm so confused.
Help.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Cheese and Wine
Oh WWBD? it's been too long. Things have actually been happening to me, not romantically happening, but ya know... happening. Gotta to start somewhere:
Today was the beginning of my third week at the new job. Things have been going well except for the fact that 1) I have had to come to terms with officially being an adult and 2) it's not just that everyone is in a relationship (like it was in grad school), now it's that everyone is married. Since I was drawn to the one single person in my department at my old job (Conrad), I'm just waiting for the inexplicable magnetic pull of the one single male at my new job. This company employs 21,000 people, surely there are a few single males in there...right??
Today is my second day in my new apartment in the city. I'm feeling somewhat of a crazy catlady. The only furniture I have so far is my bed, my roommates won't move in for another two weeks, and other than the occasional phone call from Violet or the parentals, the only conversation I've held are those with my cat. To add to the crazy, while trying to scrounge something for dinner (I haven't yet found the nearest grocery store that isn't too expensive/Whole Foods) I realized I have hardly anything in my fridge, yet I do have six types of cheese. Six! Surely this is not my best moment, but given that I've been eating dinner on the floor, using a box as a table, I assume this can be forgiven.
Today is the fourth day since I've seen Conrad. We hung out on Friday for the final time before I moved. It's a weird feeling closing the door on someone you may never see again. Then again, he might be helping me finish move this weekend. I've only moved an hour away, but that hour may be more than our weird relationship can handle. On Saturday night I decided to kill a bottle of wine while packing. I had to drink the wine, as surely I was not going to transport it across state lines, however, this was not my best plan. For starters, getting drunk while texting Conrad about my insecurities about the future of friendship was one thing, getting drunk while packing glassware was another. He assured me we'll see each other again, he promises he'll come down to visit and tells me I need to trust him. The mugs of wine (I packed my wine glasses) were downed at an amazing rate as these comments hit home. Conrad was shockingly reminding me of my ex-imaginary boyfriend (the one that moved and completely cut me off/broke my heart). I swear they used the same lines. I've been disappointed before and refuse to get my hopes up. I know how things go, I'm a realist, and I know one thing: If a guy really wants to see you, he'll see you. HJNTIY taught me that. If he doesn't care to see me much when I'm 15 minutes away, why would he when I'm an hour away? Saying goodbye to him wasn't sad because I'll miss my strange unhealthy imaginary relationship (Ok, I will miss the action). No. It was sad because really, Conrad has been my closest/geographically desirable friend the past couple months. I'll miss our friendship more than anything, as was the case with the ex-IB. Also, I have an awful record of remaining friends with guys I've had relations with (why is that?). I'm hoping this one will be different.
I'm sure he'll never come to visit, but I just keep thinking of all the things we can do in the city together (hello, science museum!!) I can't help but hope. I also can't help but hope I'll meet someone new soon so as to not even remember Conrad's name. Until then, I'll be sitting on my bed with a cat in my lap, nibbling on cheese and figuring out what craft I can make with broken wineglasses. City life is so classy.
Today was the beginning of my third week at the new job. Things have been going well except for the fact that 1) I have had to come to terms with officially being an adult and 2) it's not just that everyone is in a relationship (like it was in grad school), now it's that everyone is married. Since I was drawn to the one single person in my department at my old job (Conrad), I'm just waiting for the inexplicable magnetic pull of the one single male at my new job. This company employs 21,000 people, surely there are a few single males in there...right??
Today is my second day in my new apartment in the city. I'm feeling somewhat of a crazy catlady. The only furniture I have so far is my bed, my roommates won't move in for another two weeks, and other than the occasional phone call from Violet or the parentals, the only conversation I've held are those with my cat. To add to the crazy, while trying to scrounge something for dinner (I haven't yet found the nearest grocery store that isn't too expensive/Whole Foods) I realized I have hardly anything in my fridge, yet I do have six types of cheese. Six! Surely this is not my best moment, but given that I've been eating dinner on the floor, using a box as a table, I assume this can be forgiven.
Today is the fourth day since I've seen Conrad. We hung out on Friday for the final time before I moved. It's a weird feeling closing the door on someone you may never see again. Then again, he might be helping me finish move this weekend. I've only moved an hour away, but that hour may be more than our weird relationship can handle. On Saturday night I decided to kill a bottle of wine while packing. I had to drink the wine, as surely I was not going to transport it across state lines, however, this was not my best plan. For starters, getting drunk while texting Conrad about my insecurities about the future of friendship was one thing, getting drunk while packing glassware was another. He assured me we'll see each other again, he promises he'll come down to visit and tells me I need to trust him. The mugs of wine (I packed my wine glasses) were downed at an amazing rate as these comments hit home. Conrad was shockingly reminding me of my ex-imaginary boyfriend (the one that moved and completely cut me off/broke my heart). I swear they used the same lines. I've been disappointed before and refuse to get my hopes up. I know how things go, I'm a realist, and I know one thing: If a guy really wants to see you, he'll see you. HJNTIY taught me that. If he doesn't care to see me much when I'm 15 minutes away, why would he when I'm an hour away? Saying goodbye to him wasn't sad because I'll miss my strange unhealthy imaginary relationship (Ok, I will miss the action). No. It was sad because really, Conrad has been my closest/geographically desirable friend the past couple months. I'll miss our friendship more than anything, as was the case with the ex-IB. Also, I have an awful record of remaining friends with guys I've had relations with (why is that?). I'm hoping this one will be different.
I'm sure he'll never come to visit, but I just keep thinking of all the things we can do in the city together (hello, science museum!!) I can't help but hope. I also can't help but hope I'll meet someone new soon so as to not even remember Conrad's name. Until then, I'll be sitting on my bed with a cat in my lap, nibbling on cheese and figuring out what craft I can make with broken wineglasses. City life is so classy.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Random Thoughts on Nothingness
We've been pretty quiet this month. I can't speak for all of us (although I probably can, I'm the only one who actually knows everyone), but I've got absolutely nothing going on. Grayer is in the process of moving to a new city, Fenella just started online dating, and I don't even have a reliable booty call, seeing as he's never available. In fact, when Fenella comes to visit me in 3 weeks (eeek! Just 3 weeks!) she is going to help me find a new booty call. It is henceforth being called Operation: Papa Smurf. (Don't ask us why. We don't really know.) Although a few weeks ago, a couple of guys taught me how to play backgammon at a bar (no idea how that happened either), but that never amounted to anything. I mean, assuming they were both single (which I don't actually know), there were two of them and one of me. Apparently they didn't rock-paper-scissors for me while I was in the ladies'. So yeah. Nothing.
Yes, I know the Italian Dreamboat handed me his number, but I dealt with that the same way I deal with all awkward situations: I avoided it. I didn't call him, and I never gave him any explanation. Do I really need to? I never asked for his number. He can't understand anything I say anyway.
And speaking of reasons why I'm still single, the cute neighbor gave me something to think about last week. Over dinner, (which we've started doing with alarming frequency. I see him more now than I would an actual boyfriend, we're even road tripping this weekend), we were discussing, or maybe I was complaining about, men I've dated in the past. To which the cute neighbor said, "Since I've known you, I've heard about what you don't want in a man. What is it that you want?"
I seriously could not think of a decent answer. After "funny" I just kind of blanked. I mean, obviously I have preferences, like well-educated and good hygiene, but while I've written lists of dealbreakers, I've never written down dealmakers. I just always figured I would know it when I saw it. Right?
So far, that's all I've got: Funny, well-educated and good hygiene. Oh, and someone who can deal with the car. And money. I'm as much a feminist as the next woman, but having to deal with the car and do my own taxes are two of the worst things about being a grown-up.
Despite my romantic hibernation and cluelessness about what it actually is I'm looking for, I'm optimistic about finding something soon. Spring is here, and that means people will be out more. I think it's safe to declare St. Patrick's Day as the official start to the Spring Dating Season. I'll be playing softball again, which always helps the meeting process, and I have no doubt that Operation: Papa Smurf will be a success.
Yes, I know the Italian Dreamboat handed me his number, but I dealt with that the same way I deal with all awkward situations: I avoided it. I didn't call him, and I never gave him any explanation. Do I really need to? I never asked for his number. He can't understand anything I say anyway.
And speaking of reasons why I'm still single, the cute neighbor gave me something to think about last week. Over dinner, (which we've started doing with alarming frequency. I see him more now than I would an actual boyfriend, we're even road tripping this weekend), we were discussing, or maybe I was complaining about, men I've dated in the past. To which the cute neighbor said, "Since I've known you, I've heard about what you don't want in a man. What is it that you want?"
I seriously could not think of a decent answer. After "funny" I just kind of blanked. I mean, obviously I have preferences, like well-educated and good hygiene, but while I've written lists of dealbreakers, I've never written down dealmakers. I just always figured I would know it when I saw it. Right?
So far, that's all I've got: Funny, well-educated and good hygiene. Oh, and someone who can deal with the car. And money. I'm as much a feminist as the next woman, but having to deal with the car and do my own taxes are two of the worst things about being a grown-up.
Despite my romantic hibernation and cluelessness about what it actually is I'm looking for, I'm optimistic about finding something soon. Spring is here, and that means people will be out more. I think it's safe to declare St. Patrick's Day as the official start to the Spring Dating Season. I'll be playing softball again, which always helps the meeting process, and I have no doubt that Operation: Papa Smurf will be a success.
Saturday, March 6, 2010
3 Month Checkup
Alright ladies, it's been 3 months since we've made New Year's resolutions. A mere 90 days ago, 2010 was full of hopes and promises, but how do we feel now? Let's see where we stand!
Thursday, March 4, 2010
And the Oscar goes to...
Let's face it. WWBD? is a work of genius. It is only a matter of time before some literary agent discovers us- dating disasters, imaginary boyfriend, drunk dials, and all. Obviously we will all be flown to LA where the four of us shall all meet each other (apart from Vi who has met everyone!) and pour over our entries, deciding what ones need to go into THE BOOK: 'What do you do with your arms?'
After taking the difficult decision to go public with our true identities we will go on a whirlwind press tour promoting what the New York Times and Oprah is sure to call: "the greatest book of our time". The book shoots to the top of the bestseller list and remains there even with competition from JK Rowling who writes an 8th Harry Potter book solely to try and get rid of us.
Where there is a bestselling book there has to be a best-selling movie. And, just to complete the dream, Violet, Scarlet, Grayer and Fenella win the Oscar for 'best original screenplay.' (Oh and I meet Chris Pine during our whirlwind publicity tour. Obviously he falls head over heels in love with me).
Now ladies we need some casting! Suggestions so far include:
Violet - Anne Hathaway
Fenella - Amy Adams (love her but she might be a bit old to portray a 23 year old...)
Grayer - ?
Scarlet - ?
The Dark Horse - ?
Conrad - ?
etc.....
And may I suggest, if you are incredibly bored at work (which in case you can't tell, I normally am!) daydream about your wardrobe for the press tour and award shows. It's fun.
After taking the difficult decision to go public with our true identities we will go on a whirlwind press tour promoting what the New York Times and Oprah is sure to call: "the greatest book of our time". The book shoots to the top of the bestseller list and remains there even with competition from JK Rowling who writes an 8th Harry Potter book solely to try and get rid of us.
Where there is a bestselling book there has to be a best-selling movie. And, just to complete the dream, Violet, Scarlet, Grayer and Fenella win the Oscar for 'best original screenplay.' (Oh and I meet Chris Pine during our whirlwind publicity tour. Obviously he falls head over heels in love with me).
Now ladies we need some casting! Suggestions so far include:
Violet - Anne Hathaway
Fenella - Amy Adams (love her but she might be a bit old to portray a 23 year old...)
Grayer - ?
Scarlet - ?
The Dark Horse - ?
Conrad - ?
etc.....
And may I suggest, if you are incredibly bored at work (which in case you can't tell, I normally am!) daydream about your wardrobe for the press tour and award shows. It's fun.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Even babies love Hermes
I know this is a dating/relationships/singleton blog, but we singletons love nothing if not our chick-lit, and lately my life has been a Devil Wears Prada/The Nanny Diaries hybrid, only without the Harvard Hottie or the Adrian Grenier boyfriend. *sigh* That and the fact that my love life is still in winter hibernation mode, so I don't really have anything else to write about. Although even if I did, this story still needs to be shared with the world.
I was watching Eloise last Friday, as usual, when Ms. X (Eloise's mother) asked me to run an errand for her, as I also function as her personal assistant. She asked me to run to Hermes, to pick up a gift she had on hold for a friend's baby while Eloise was at her guitar lesson (like any normal 5-year-old). Very Devil Wears Prada. My first thought was: Hermes? For a baby? What are they going to do, diaper the kid with a $500 scarf? What on earth would you get a child, let alone a baby, at Hermes?
I pulled into the parking lot- I declined the complimentary valet parking, thank you very much- and immediately knew I didn't belong. My yellow ford focus didn't exactly fit in with the black Mercedes and Audis that were already there. Not to mention the fact that I was wearing a hooded sweatshirt, jeans, and sneakers, and this was a store with a guard at the door, and sales people who wear immaculate designer suits that cost more than my car. I was expecting a scene straight out of Pretty Woman, where the employees look at me with disdain because I wasn't dressed properly, and kind of wished I was wearing thigh-high boots and a halter top in the hopes that I would meet a Richard Gere-type sugar daddy.
Fortunately, the sales clerk was much nicer to me than the people of Beverly Hills were to Julia Roberts, and was very helpful and friendly, despite my attire. When I told him who I was picking up for, he thought for a moment, and said, "Oh yes, it was a bookmark!"
A bookmark? For a baby? He came back with what appeared to be a small, purple hippopotamus. Surely I could buy that at Barnes and Noble? I whipped out Ms. X's credit card, as he said, "That will be $178.60."
178 what? Dollars? Surely, he must have meant rupees? Or pesos? Or soles? But no, he meant one-hundred and seventy-eight American dollars.
For a bookmark? For a baby? Who can't even read? I don't spend any money on bookmarks. I use an old receipt. Or a brochure I don't need. Or a wad of paper I found lying on the ground. Or, if I'm feeling really fancy, I use a free bookmark from the check-out desk at the library.
A hundred and seventy-eight dollars? Good grief.
As soon as I got into the car, I called Grayer. Like I said, this is something that needs to be shared with the world. I mean, how many people know that $178 bookmarks exist? Because I sure as hell didn't.
First of all, if this woman can spend this much money on something that will probably never be used for a kid that isn't hers, then I am clearly underpaid. That's almost as much as I get paid for watching Eloise in a week. Depending on the week, it could be more. She just spent more on a
bookmark than she spends on a week of childcare. There is something fundamentally wrong with that. Second, if anyone gave my offspring a gift like that, I would return it to the sophisticated boutique from which it came, and use that money for something useful. Like starting a college fund.
$178. For a bookmark. For a baby. I will never, ever get over this.
I was watching Eloise last Friday, as usual, when Ms. X (Eloise's mother) asked me to run an errand for her, as I also function as her personal assistant. She asked me to run to Hermes, to pick up a gift she had on hold for a friend's baby while Eloise was at her guitar lesson (like any normal 5-year-old). Very Devil Wears Prada. My first thought was: Hermes? For a baby? What are they going to do, diaper the kid with a $500 scarf? What on earth would you get a child, let alone a baby, at Hermes?
I pulled into the parking lot- I declined the complimentary valet parking, thank you very much- and immediately knew I didn't belong. My yellow ford focus didn't exactly fit in with the black Mercedes and Audis that were already there. Not to mention the fact that I was wearing a hooded sweatshirt, jeans, and sneakers, and this was a store with a guard at the door, and sales people who wear immaculate designer suits that cost more than my car. I was expecting a scene straight out of Pretty Woman, where the employees look at me with disdain because I wasn't dressed properly, and kind of wished I was wearing thigh-high boots and a halter top in the hopes that I would meet a Richard Gere-type sugar daddy.
Fortunately, the sales clerk was much nicer to me than the people of Beverly Hills were to Julia Roberts, and was very helpful and friendly, despite my attire. When I told him who I was picking up for, he thought for a moment, and said, "Oh yes, it was a bookmark!"
A bookmark? For a baby? He came back with what appeared to be a small, purple hippopotamus. Surely I could buy that at Barnes and Noble? I whipped out Ms. X's credit card, as he said, "That will be $178.60."
178 what? Dollars? Surely, he must have meant rupees? Or pesos? Or soles? But no, he meant one-hundred and seventy-eight American dollars.
For a bookmark? For a baby? Who can't even read? I don't spend any money on bookmarks. I use an old receipt. Or a brochure I don't need. Or a wad of paper I found lying on the ground. Or, if I'm feeling really fancy, I use a free bookmark from the check-out desk at the library.
A hundred and seventy-eight dollars? Good grief.
As soon as I got into the car, I called Grayer. Like I said, this is something that needs to be shared with the world. I mean, how many people know that $178 bookmarks exist? Because I sure as hell didn't.
First of all, if this woman can spend this much money on something that will probably never be used for a kid that isn't hers, then I am clearly underpaid. That's almost as much as I get paid for watching Eloise in a week. Depending on the week, it could be more. She just spent more on a
bookmark than she spends on a week of childcare. There is something fundamentally wrong with that. Second, if anyone gave my offspring a gift like that, I would return it to the sophisticated boutique from which it came, and use that money for something useful. Like starting a college fund.
$178. For a bookmark. For a baby. I will never, ever get over this.
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