They say the grass is always greener on the other side. If you have curly hair, you want straight hair, if you order something in a restaurant what your dining partner orders inevitably looks nicer and if you are single there are times when you just don't want to be.
What people fail to focus more on however, is how those people in a relationship have fleeting moments of fancy when they don't want to living in domestic bliss, choosing china patterns and having dinner parties oh no, they want to be living up the single life.
Enter Fen.
I'm not quite sure what is going on but suddenly I have become the singleton that smug marrieds want to live vicariously through. Case in point: my friend who has recently got engaged and my housemate who is all coupled up with one of my other housemates (I have a lot of housemates). The two of them love hearing about my adventures in the dating world (online dating) and how I try to make my working life that little bit more interesting (PWG). Why? I do not know. My dating life is really not that exciting. And, although I'm flattered by their interest I am starting to feel the pressure.
I am not a performing monkey OK? As much as I wish I could snap my fingers and a Mr Darcy or even a Daniel Cleaver type would appear, I cannot. The PWG thing is still keeping them amused but I don't know where that's heading and what if they get bored and want to hear about someone new?
So, Vi, as much as I am delighted that you now have an ACTUAL boyfriend (I still take a lot of credit for this) I'm begging you, please don't now live vicariously through my single life. A dry spell can happen at any time.
And I just can't take the pressure.
Monday, May 31, 2010
Friday, May 28, 2010
An ACTUAL Boyfriend?
Something huge has happened. Something that has never happened before. History has been made. It's a very important day indeed. Someone on this blog has an ACTUAL BOYFRIEND. And that someone is ME.
Yes, that's right. I, Violet J. Bickerstaff, have an actual boyfriend. Not imaginary, not fake, not pseoudo, not potential, but an ACTUAL BOYFRIEND. Like the Curse of the Bambino or the goat, I was beginning to think there was a WWBD? curse. But fear not, ladies, there is hope!
I knew I had to have the conversation last night. The biggest reason being that Fenella threatened not to speak to me until I did. And I'm going out of town this weekend (family bonding at DisneyWorld. w00t.) so it would be nice to have that settled before I take off.
Since I hate to ask important questions and have important conversations, I like to sit back and wait for The Conversation to come up naturally. And naturally, it never does. Except this time. I was given an absolute gift by a friend of the cute neighbor's whom I've never met before. While we were on my porch waiting for our burgers to grill, he received a text from this friend he hasn't heard from in awhile. It went something like this: "I hear you have a gf? Violet?"
Interesting. Word has clearly spread. Someone has been saying he has a girlfriend, and they know my name. And still, I couldn't come right out and ask if that was true immediately. In my defense, I hesitated to take a deep breath, and he launched into a story about the text messaging friend, and then it was time to get our burgers off the grill. You know how it goes.
Eventually though, I decided to rip off the band-aid. I took another deep breath, and asked him if he did in fact, have a gf. He thought about it for about two seconds and said, "yes, I would consider that to be the case." So I have a boyfriend. End of story.
I texted Grayer later and said, "have an actual boyfriend. You know what to do." The response: "Ok you got it." G and I have a long standing agreement that whenever one of us has an actual boyfriend, the other one will tell our parents. (Seriously, no idea how we got this screwed up.) Of course, we made this agreement a long time ago, and this is the first time we've ever had to use it. It took her all of three minutes before she sent another text back (since she's already in FL with the parentals) which said, "They said good for her." Which is exactly the reaction I was expecting. Ok, that or "Well that's nice" which is my mom's response to almost everything of this nature.
Now the cute neighbor needs a new name. I suggest Lloyd. Thoughts?
Yes, that's right. I, Violet J. Bickerstaff, have an actual boyfriend. Not imaginary, not fake, not pseoudo, not potential, but an ACTUAL BOYFRIEND. Like the Curse of the Bambino or the goat, I was beginning to think there was a WWBD? curse. But fear not, ladies, there is hope!
I knew I had to have the conversation last night. The biggest reason being that Fenella threatened not to speak to me until I did. And I'm going out of town this weekend (family bonding at DisneyWorld. w00t.) so it would be nice to have that settled before I take off.
Since I hate to ask important questions and have important conversations, I like to sit back and wait for The Conversation to come up naturally. And naturally, it never does. Except this time. I was given an absolute gift by a friend of the cute neighbor's whom I've never met before. While we were on my porch waiting for our burgers to grill, he received a text from this friend he hasn't heard from in awhile. It went something like this: "I hear you have a gf? Violet?"
Interesting. Word has clearly spread. Someone has been saying he has a girlfriend, and they know my name. And still, I couldn't come right out and ask if that was true immediately. In my defense, I hesitated to take a deep breath, and he launched into a story about the text messaging friend, and then it was time to get our burgers off the grill. You know how it goes.
Eventually though, I decided to rip off the band-aid. I took another deep breath, and asked him if he did in fact, have a gf. He thought about it for about two seconds and said, "yes, I would consider that to be the case." So I have a boyfriend. End of story.
I texted Grayer later and said, "have an actual boyfriend. You know what to do." The response: "Ok you got it." G and I have a long standing agreement that whenever one of us has an actual boyfriend, the other one will tell our parents. (Seriously, no idea how we got this screwed up.) Of course, we made this agreement a long time ago, and this is the first time we've ever had to use it. It took her all of three minutes before she sent another text back (since she's already in FL with the parentals) which said, "They said good for her." Which is exactly the reaction I was expecting. Ok, that or "Well that's nice" which is my mom's response to almost everything of this nature.
Now the cute neighbor needs a new name. I suggest Lloyd. Thoughts?
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
The Conversation
It's been very nearly two months since The Cute Neighbor and I became More Than Just Friends. Very nearly two months since he told me he was interested in being more than a fake boyfriend, and very nearly two months since I shoved Fenella back into the bathroom she had just come out of in order to tell her news of this conversation while I relieved myself. (Which was, by the way, a Top 10 Moment in the History of Friendship. Not just the History of Vi and Fen's Friendship, but the History of Friendship. Ever.)
Things have been moving along swimmingly since then. There is only one thing I know I need to do, but really, really don't want to do: Have The Conversation.
The Cute Neighbor and I function like a couple. I spend the night every night. We eat dinner together every day. He even invited me out of town next month, where he will be hanging out with friends for a weekend post-conference, which means he not only invited me out of town, but he also wants me to meet all his friends. I'm excited about this, but also incredibly intimidated given that they're all PhDs, and I work as a professional baby-sitter, but more about that later.
I never even really think about this sort of thing until it's been at least three months, but I think the fact that The Cute Neighbor and I were such good friends first, and the fact that it takes 97 seconds to get from his front door to mine make for a relationship that moves a bit faster than I'm used to.
Things are going so well that I'm almost hesitant to bring up The Conversation. But other people have taken to calling him my boyfriend, and I don't know if I should correct them or not. And quite frankly, I don't WANT to, which is an improvement over anyone else I've dated recently. (Yes, I was super in to The Dark Horse, but that was an awful lot of baggage he was carrying around.)
Take this for example: Saturday morning, I was getting dressed when The Cute Neighbor looked at me in my underwear and said accusingly, "Are you losing weight?" And yes, he made it sound like an accusation. I laughed and said, "No, if anything, I'm going the other way." To which he said, "Awesome."
Awesome! He said Awesome! I told him that I might be gaining weight and he said AWESOME! How many men do that? Seriously, I can. Not. Fuck. This. Up.
So how do I do it? How do I bring up The Conversation? I want it to just come up naturally, but that's the funny thing about The Conversation. It never cooperates like that. And I know he won't bring it up, not because he's a guy, but because he's just sitting back and waiting for me to do it, just to watch me squirm. He's difficult like that. (Fen can attest to that.) So how do I do it? Help. Help. Help!
Things have been moving along swimmingly since then. There is only one thing I know I need to do, but really, really don't want to do: Have The Conversation.
The Cute Neighbor and I function like a couple. I spend the night every night. We eat dinner together every day. He even invited me out of town next month, where he will be hanging out with friends for a weekend post-conference, which means he not only invited me out of town, but he also wants me to meet all his friends. I'm excited about this, but also incredibly intimidated given that they're all PhDs, and I work as a professional baby-sitter, but more about that later.
I never even really think about this sort of thing until it's been at least three months, but I think the fact that The Cute Neighbor and I were such good friends first, and the fact that it takes 97 seconds to get from his front door to mine make for a relationship that moves a bit faster than I'm used to.
Things are going so well that I'm almost hesitant to bring up The Conversation. But other people have taken to calling him my boyfriend, and I don't know if I should correct them or not. And quite frankly, I don't WANT to, which is an improvement over anyone else I've dated recently. (Yes, I was super in to The Dark Horse, but that was an awful lot of baggage he was carrying around.)
Take this for example: Saturday morning, I was getting dressed when The Cute Neighbor looked at me in my underwear and said accusingly, "Are you losing weight?" And yes, he made it sound like an accusation. I laughed and said, "No, if anything, I'm going the other way." To which he said, "Awesome."
Awesome! He said Awesome! I told him that I might be gaining weight and he said AWESOME! How many men do that? Seriously, I can. Not. Fuck. This. Up.
So how do I do it? How do I bring up The Conversation? I want it to just come up naturally, but that's the funny thing about The Conversation. It never cooperates like that. And I know he won't bring it up, not because he's a guy, but because he's just sitting back and waiting for me to do it, just to watch me squirm. He's difficult like that. (Fen can attest to that.) So how do I do it? Help. Help. Help!
Monday, May 24, 2010
Happy 300th Post!!
Wow, 300 posts! I can't take much credit for this as I only started blogging last year, but congratulations to all!
So, let's talk smug marrieds.
I don't really know of any people my age who are married. The majority of people I know who are married are friends of my parents. Even at work there are very few people in the 'married' category. But this is soon(ish) to change. One of my closest friends is engaged and the wedding is being planned for a year in September. Excellent news. And I get to be bridesmaid. Even more excellent news. (I've been to 7 funerals in my life and 0 weddings. It's time for things to change.)
Here's the problem. I'm hearing an awful lot about weddings. Dresses, flowers, venues, guest lists, you name it. I've now started getting emails asking my opinion about venues- 'late bar' is my dealbreaker. I mean, I'm glad my opinion in being asked for but is this really going to go on for over a year? Because I may go crazy.
I am excited about it, really I am. It's just rubbing my face in my singletoness, which I am normally ok with, but sometimes I'm not and hearing about place settings doesn't help in these situations.
So I would like to say, in this 300th post that I am glad that while friends are getting engaged and debating between roses and lilies and chicken or salmon we here at WWBD? only need to debate between the karaoke kid and his roommate (for example)and vodka and wine.
Cheers! And here's to our 500th post!
So, let's talk smug marrieds.
I don't really know of any people my age who are married. The majority of people I know who are married are friends of my parents. Even at work there are very few people in the 'married' category. But this is soon(ish) to change. One of my closest friends is engaged and the wedding is being planned for a year in September. Excellent news. And I get to be bridesmaid. Even more excellent news. (I've been to 7 funerals in my life and 0 weddings. It's time for things to change.)
Here's the problem. I'm hearing an awful lot about weddings. Dresses, flowers, venues, guest lists, you name it. I've now started getting emails asking my opinion about venues- 'late bar' is my dealbreaker. I mean, I'm glad my opinion in being asked for but is this really going to go on for over a year? Because I may go crazy.
I am excited about it, really I am. It's just rubbing my face in my singletoness, which I am normally ok with, but sometimes I'm not and hearing about place settings doesn't help in these situations.
So I would like to say, in this 300th post that I am glad that while friends are getting engaged and debating between roses and lilies and chicken or salmon we here at WWBD? only need to debate between the karaoke kid and his roommate (for example)and vodka and wine.
Cheers! And here's to our 500th post!
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
All in the Family
Grayer's last post reminded me of a conversation I had with Fenella last weekend. Fen and I had discussed before our desire to be sluttier than we actually are, and months later, she had come up with a way that she is, indeed, a slut. Turns out, when it comes to Fen's immediate family, she is quite slutty. Everyone else in her family took to the first boyfriend/girlfriend they ever had. But Fen? She's playing the field. Total slut.
To which I said, "Well, you've got one on me. I can't even be the Slut of my family because of my sister [Grayer]."
And what did Grayer do? She went out on Friday night and proved me right.
So Congratulations Fen and Grayer for being the sluts of your respective families, and you Grayer, for being the biggest slut of this blog.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
WTF? Seriously, WTF?
The MTV Movie Awards have a "Best WTF Moment" category. Well MTV, I will see your nominations like the naked trunk surprise in The Hangover and raise you with this: My Friday Night.
Last Tuesday I got horrifically drunk at a work thing. (Don't drink on a school night ladies). Posh Work Guy and I had a discussion that night. A discussion that concluded with us agreeing that on Friday night we'd both be getting some action. With each other. But you all got that.
Thursday night I did a bit of sexfoliation- made even more difficult knowing that I had to go to work beforehand. Showed up at work on Friday and guess who wasn't in the office? He sometimes shows up later in the day because he has meetings so I wasn't too concerned but by one 1pm there was no still no sign. Knowing that I wasn't going to get much done unless I found out where he was and if I was going to get some, I text him. Turns out he was working from home. However, although I thought this meant my sexfoliation was a waste of time, the conversation turned to our 'arrangement'. We ended up having the same conversation we had on Tuesday. Just sober and via text message. It lasted a good 3 hours. Finally I said could we not just meet and discuss this because my head was hurting and I needed to do some work.
We agreed to meet at a pub near his. We met, we drank a bit, we chatted. A guy from work came into the pub and we made a hasty getaway. We went back to his where we cuddled on the couch watching TV. The conversation turned to our flurry of text messages that afternoon. Conclusion? We're friends now and we'll be friends afterwards. Fine. After that, things finally got moving.
And then, well, I'm confused. Things happened, my dry spell came to an end, but it wasn't well, good. Afterwards, he got up to go to the bathroom. When he came back, he was dressed. He asked if I wanted my clothes. Um, what? Well not really, but I figured I should probably get them. We went back in the living room and watched the news (yes, that's right, the news). I was thinking things were awkward. They were about to get a lot worse...
PWG: Sorry but I can't drive you home tomorrow.
(That was fine, having someone drive you around in London is a luxury and I knew he had to do some mechanical thingy to his car.)
Me: No problem. I'll get the tube.
PWG: And you won't be able to sleep in because I have to get up really early to get things done.
Me (half-jokingly): I can just leave now if you want.
Pause.
PWG: If you do then you can wake up tomorrow and know you don't have to go anywhere, won't that be nice?
Pause.
Me: Um, ok, I'll just finish my drink.
WTF?
By this point I didn't want to be there anymore and I didn't get what was going on. At all. I finished my drink and got my stuff together. When he opened the door to his apartment I suddenly clicked that he wasn't going to walk me to the tube station. I had only been to his twice before and had never gotten the tube. I only vaguely knew where the station was. I had to ask him for directions. And he still didn't walk me. He did ask me to text him when I got home. How chivalrous.
So there I am, walking in an area of London I don't know at all, in the cold, at 10.30 on a Friday night. I felt like a cheap call girl. I got home and emailed Vi and cursed the fact that we live in different continents, on different time zones and neither of us is rich enough to be able to afford transatlantic phone bills. Oh and I did text him simply saying: "I'm home." He replied saying have a nice weekend.
Have a nice weekend? If having a nice weekend involves being extremely upset and angry and convinced that I'm bad in bed well then I'm having a marvelous time.
Please, someone, tell me what the hell happened. It was all agreed, all cards on the table. This was going to be a bit of fun. Nothing was going to change. It's possible, look at Vi and the Dark Horse. Now I have to see him at work tomorrow. I want to yell at him, for not walking me to the station if nothing else, but I can't because I have to act like nothing has changed between us, all is fine, as we agreed.
Well all is not fine. And I did not agree to him treating me like this. And I'm really angry.
Fenella's Friday Night = Winner. Best WTF moment.
Grayer's night with KK's roomie = A very, very close second.
Vi getting dumped by the Dark Horse while she was in her underwear. Twice = Joint very close second.
We need to stop having these moments.
Last Tuesday I got horrifically drunk at a work thing. (Don't drink on a school night ladies). Posh Work Guy and I had a discussion that night. A discussion that concluded with us agreeing that on Friday night we'd both be getting some action. With each other. But you all got that.
Thursday night I did a bit of sexfoliation- made even more difficult knowing that I had to go to work beforehand. Showed up at work on Friday and guess who wasn't in the office? He sometimes shows up later in the day because he has meetings so I wasn't too concerned but by one 1pm there was no still no sign. Knowing that I wasn't going to get much done unless I found out where he was and if I was going to get some, I text him. Turns out he was working from home. However, although I thought this meant my sexfoliation was a waste of time, the conversation turned to our 'arrangement'. We ended up having the same conversation we had on Tuesday. Just sober and via text message. It lasted a good 3 hours. Finally I said could we not just meet and discuss this because my head was hurting and I needed to do some work.
We agreed to meet at a pub near his. We met, we drank a bit, we chatted. A guy from work came into the pub and we made a hasty getaway. We went back to his where we cuddled on the couch watching TV. The conversation turned to our flurry of text messages that afternoon. Conclusion? We're friends now and we'll be friends afterwards. Fine. After that, things finally got moving.
And then, well, I'm confused. Things happened, my dry spell came to an end, but it wasn't well, good. Afterwards, he got up to go to the bathroom. When he came back, he was dressed. He asked if I wanted my clothes. Um, what? Well not really, but I figured I should probably get them. We went back in the living room and watched the news (yes, that's right, the news). I was thinking things were awkward. They were about to get a lot worse...
PWG: Sorry but I can't drive you home tomorrow.
(That was fine, having someone drive you around in London is a luxury and I knew he had to do some mechanical thingy to his car.)
Me: No problem. I'll get the tube.
PWG: And you won't be able to sleep in because I have to get up really early to get things done.
Me (half-jokingly): I can just leave now if you want.
Pause.
PWG: If you do then you can wake up tomorrow and know you don't have to go anywhere, won't that be nice?
Pause.
Me: Um, ok, I'll just finish my drink.
WTF?
By this point I didn't want to be there anymore and I didn't get what was going on. At all. I finished my drink and got my stuff together. When he opened the door to his apartment I suddenly clicked that he wasn't going to walk me to the tube station. I had only been to his twice before and had never gotten the tube. I only vaguely knew where the station was. I had to ask him for directions. And he still didn't walk me. He did ask me to text him when I got home. How chivalrous.
So there I am, walking in an area of London I don't know at all, in the cold, at 10.30 on a Friday night. I felt like a cheap call girl. I got home and emailed Vi and cursed the fact that we live in different continents, on different time zones and neither of us is rich enough to be able to afford transatlantic phone bills. Oh and I did text him simply saying: "I'm home." He replied saying have a nice weekend.
Have a nice weekend? If having a nice weekend involves being extremely upset and angry and convinced that I'm bad in bed well then I'm having a marvelous time.
Please, someone, tell me what the hell happened. It was all agreed, all cards on the table. This was going to be a bit of fun. Nothing was going to change. It's possible, look at Vi and the Dark Horse. Now I have to see him at work tomorrow. I want to yell at him, for not walking me to the station if nothing else, but I can't because I have to act like nothing has changed between us, all is fine, as we agreed.
Well all is not fine. And I did not agree to him treating me like this. And I'm really angry.
Fenella's Friday Night = Winner. Best WTF moment.
Grayer's night with KK's roomie = A very, very close second.
Vi getting dumped by the Dark Horse while she was in her underwear. Twice = Joint very close second.
We need to stop having these moments.
The question of morality
I met up with Karaoke Kid and his friends on Friday night. We drank at their house. We drank at a bar. We drank at their house again. (Yes, I've been drinking a lot since moving here). Until finally, while his roommate sat playing the guitar, The Karaoke Kid passed out on the couch. It was close to 4 am at this point and I didn't want to make the long walk home. What was supposed to do?! Oh, the dilemma.
So I continued to hang out with The Roommate (cue the "uh-oh"). Not really sure how it happened but at some point I accidentally ended up spending the night. With The Roommate. In the Roommates bed. Naked. While the Karaoke Kid was in the next room. Uh-oh, indeed.
Now let me say, though my morality is questionable, it's definitely present. Or at least it finally decided to show up late in the game. We stopped short, as we both started feeling incredibly guilty. Apparently, getting into the pants of the girl your roommate/good friend is trying to get into the pants of is a no-no. And even though we are not together, and still haven't hooked up (see I do have morals!...actually I think it's KK with the morals), I was feeling really bad. Not bad enough to get dressed and leave, but bad enough to get partially dressed and continue to lay there.
The thing is, this wasn't particularly surprising. And not because it was alcohol induced. I admit I was starting to get a crush on this guy. He's just as cute as the Karaoke Kid, funnier, and he also plays the guitar. He's also flirtatiously mean to me, which for some reason I find intriguing (For example, when stating I only had maybe 3 single friends, one of which was my sister, Violet, he asked "But does she look like you? Cuz if so, I'm not interested." That definitely messed with my head, as 2 days later I was still thinking about that comment). He admitted he had a thing for me since the first time the Karaoke Kid brought me home (see Vi, he is interested!). Even so there we were, laying in bed, feeling like we were having an affair. We agreed to never speak of this to anyone (you all don't count).
To make matters worse, I had to creep by the Karaoke Kid (still asleep on the couch) to leave the apartment. After successfully unlocking and tiptoing out the door, I turn to see it slam shut behind me. I fled. 10 minutes later (still walking the walk of shame and guilt) the Karaoke Kid texts me, apologizing for passing out and asking if he had just heard me leave. Oh, the guilt.
Now what am I supposed to do?! No, seriously, tell me what I'm supposed to do. I want to still hang out with those guys but obviously this complicates things. I don't want to hurt the Karaoke Kid, nor do I want to hurt his friendship with The Roommate. I just want to hang out with them. Damn you morality, you're never on time.
So I continued to hang out with The Roommate (cue the "uh-oh"). Not really sure how it happened but at some point I accidentally ended up spending the night. With The Roommate. In the Roommates bed. Naked. While the Karaoke Kid was in the next room. Uh-oh, indeed.
Now let me say, though my morality is questionable, it's definitely present. Or at least it finally decided to show up late in the game. We stopped short, as we both started feeling incredibly guilty. Apparently, getting into the pants of the girl your roommate/good friend is trying to get into the pants of is a no-no. And even though we are not together, and still haven't hooked up (see I do have morals!...actually I think it's KK with the morals), I was feeling really bad. Not bad enough to get dressed and leave, but bad enough to get partially dressed and continue to lay there.
The thing is, this wasn't particularly surprising. And not because it was alcohol induced. I admit I was starting to get a crush on this guy. He's just as cute as the Karaoke Kid, funnier, and he also plays the guitar. He's also flirtatiously mean to me, which for some reason I find intriguing (For example, when stating I only had maybe 3 single friends, one of which was my sister, Violet, he asked "But does she look like you? Cuz if so, I'm not interested." That definitely messed with my head, as 2 days later I was still thinking about that comment). He admitted he had a thing for me since the first time the Karaoke Kid brought me home (see Vi, he is interested!). Even so there we were, laying in bed, feeling like we were having an affair. We agreed to never speak of this to anyone (you all don't count).
To make matters worse, I had to creep by the Karaoke Kid (still asleep on the couch) to leave the apartment. After successfully unlocking and tiptoing out the door, I turn to see it slam shut behind me. I fled. 10 minutes later (still walking the walk of shame and guilt) the Karaoke Kid texts me, apologizing for passing out and asking if he had just heard me leave. Oh, the guilt.
Now what am I supposed to do?! No, seriously, tell me what I'm supposed to do. I want to still hang out with those guys but obviously this complicates things. I don't want to hurt the Karaoke Kid, nor do I want to hurt his friendship with The Roommate. I just want to hang out with them. Damn you morality, you're never on time.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
The power of cleavage
I would like to finally share with you a story of my weekend.
A friend from school was visiting me for the night. We settled in at a bar in which we approved of the atmosphere, the music, not to mention the median age of the clientele (very important!). We had two drinks while sitting at the bar, minding our own business, and talking exclusively to ourselves. We were considering heading home for the night when fresh drinks are placed in front of us and the bartender introduces himself and his coworker. These guys were not bad looking. They were also not young. I'd guess they were pushing 40. And one of them was married. But the liver wants what the liver wants, so we chatted and flirted our way into more free drinks and into the hearts of our 40-year-old bartenders. I have finally realized my lifelong dream of befriending bartenders! And this could never happen if you actually tried to make it happen!
At closing time they started kicking everyone out. Everyone but us. That's right, we stayed after hours with the bartenders. They let me behind the bar to sloppily replenish drinks. By 3:30 in the morning my friend couldn't stop giggling and I was getting bossy (FYI, I'm a bossy drunk). And then we did, probably the stupidest thing we could have done (no, not that). We let them drive us home. Rule #1 of any female: Never willingly get into a vehicle with strange men! Especially strange men that have spent the past 3 hours getting you wasted! Luckily, they dropped us off on my street, having no clue to which house was actually mine. We stumbled in, laughing, ridiculously proud of ourselves, and me holding a demo cd of one of the bartender's band (I'm attracting musicians like mad!). We had a blast! And then we promptly passed out.
While nursing hangovers the next morning we decided on two things. 1. Never willingly get into a vehicle with strange men ever again. And 2. I need to keep going to that bar and maintain a healthy relationship with those bartenders. Because these are two men that I really see myself having a future with.
A friend from school was visiting me for the night. We settled in at a bar in which we approved of the atmosphere, the music, not to mention the median age of the clientele (very important!). We had two drinks while sitting at the bar, minding our own business, and talking exclusively to ourselves. We were considering heading home for the night when fresh drinks are placed in front of us and the bartender introduces himself and his coworker. These guys were not bad looking. They were also not young. I'd guess they were pushing 40. And one of them was married. But the liver wants what the liver wants, so we chatted and flirted our way into more free drinks and into the hearts of our 40-year-old bartenders. I have finally realized my lifelong dream of befriending bartenders! And this could never happen if you actually tried to make it happen!
At closing time they started kicking everyone out. Everyone but us. That's right, we stayed after hours with the bartenders. They let me behind the bar to sloppily replenish drinks. By 3:30 in the morning my friend couldn't stop giggling and I was getting bossy (FYI, I'm a bossy drunk). And then we did, probably the stupidest thing we could have done (no, not that). We let them drive us home. Rule #1 of any female: Never willingly get into a vehicle with strange men! Especially strange men that have spent the past 3 hours getting you wasted! Luckily, they dropped us off on my street, having no clue to which house was actually mine. We stumbled in, laughing, ridiculously proud of ourselves, and me holding a demo cd of one of the bartender's band (I'm attracting musicians like mad!). We had a blast! And then we promptly passed out.
While nursing hangovers the next morning we decided on two things. 1. Never willingly get into a vehicle with strange men ever again. And 2. I need to keep going to that bar and maintain a healthy relationship with those bartenders. Because these are two men that I really see myself having a future with.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
I've Lost My Muse
I'm trying really, really hard to think of something witty and funny and insightful and fantastic to blog about, but I'm having a hard time. I've lost my inspiration, my muse. I know exactly who to blame.
The Cute Neighbor.
Here's the thing: My writing is complete shit when I'm content. Fortunately for me, but unfortunately for WWBD? I've kind of got a really good thing going with the neighbor. I really, really don't want to fuck it up.
When I told Fen this, she said, "First of all, it's weird to hear you swear, and second of all, you won't fuck it up." Obviously I wouldn't intentionally fuck it up, but I have this old habit of putting up walls and being hard to read. Or so I've heard. I've actually heard the hard to read bit from everyone, including the cute neighbor. I'm working really hard to actually use my words and not clam up. I'm already improving.
The Cute Neighbor is out of town and has been for 5 days and will be for 5 more. I honestly can't wait for Sunday when he comes back. I may joke that it's because I've gone back to eating cereal and pasta for dinner when I've come accustomed to someone else preparing an elaborate meal straight from The Joy of Cooking made from scratch with fresh ingredients, but that's not it. I've just become so accustomed to going over the day with a fine-toothed comb with him when I get home from work. And that started long before I started spending the night.
So forgive, but for now, my muses- Anger, Frustration, and Confusion- have left me. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that they stay for awhile.
The Cute Neighbor.
Here's the thing: My writing is complete shit when I'm content. Fortunately for me, but unfortunately for WWBD? I've kind of got a really good thing going with the neighbor. I really, really don't want to fuck it up.
When I told Fen this, she said, "First of all, it's weird to hear you swear, and second of all, you won't fuck it up." Obviously I wouldn't intentionally fuck it up, but I have this old habit of putting up walls and being hard to read. Or so I've heard. I've actually heard the hard to read bit from everyone, including the cute neighbor. I'm working really hard to actually use my words and not clam up. I'm already improving.
The Cute Neighbor is out of town and has been for 5 days and will be for 5 more. I honestly can't wait for Sunday when he comes back. I may joke that it's because I've gone back to eating cereal and pasta for dinner when I've come accustomed to someone else preparing an elaborate meal straight from The Joy of Cooking made from scratch with fresh ingredients, but that's not it. I've just become so accustomed to going over the day with a fine-toothed comb with him when I get home from work. And that started long before I started spending the night.
So forgive, but for now, my muses- Anger, Frustration, and Confusion- have left me. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that they stay for awhile.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Operation Papa Smurf
Back in the days before Vi has her Potential Actual Boyfriend / Actual Boyfriend / whatever his title is right now, she was on the lookout for a new booty call. As I was visiting her in the near future I decided, being the amazing friend that I am, that I would help her out with finding a new man to satisfy all her needs and desires. We named it Operation Papa Smurf. Why Operation Papa Smurf? Why not!
However, now that Vi has her Potential Actual Boyfriend / Actual Boyfriend / whatever his title is right now, Operation Papa Smurf has been put on the shelf to gather dust. This has to change, a plan with such a great name has to be put to good use. Enter Fen.
Ever since that random evening with Posh Work Guy he's been on my mind. A lot. Reassuringly, for my sanity, I haven't been thinking about him because I like him but because it's been awhile since I've had any action. And before anyone starts mentioning my sleepovers with McNerdy and indeed PWG a few weeks ago allow me to clarify: there's action and then there's action. Normally, going long periods of time without action doesn't bother me. Except something has snapped and I have now decided that I need action. Enter Posh Work Guy.
My problem is deciphering whether PWG is willing to be my booty call. I have to tread carefully here because I work with him and thus see him everyday. So embarrassing myself would be extra embarrassing. This means drunk texts are a no go area. And while having a similar "I shaved my legs for this" incident like Vi did would get the point across, if it went wrong I'd have to see him the next day. Tricky. I did take control of the situation by inviting him out for drinks on Friday which he had to decline but had a genuine reason and said that we should definitely reschedule, this seems like a good sign. My next plan is to see what happens next week, we have someone's leaving drinks after work. A little bit of alcohol always helps right?
Let Operation Papa Smurf commence!
However, now that Vi has her Potential Actual Boyfriend / Actual Boyfriend / whatever his title is right now, Operation Papa Smurf has been put on the shelf to gather dust. This has to change, a plan with such a great name has to be put to good use. Enter Fen.
Ever since that random evening with Posh Work Guy he's been on my mind. A lot. Reassuringly, for my sanity, I haven't been thinking about him because I like him but because it's been awhile since I've had any action. And before anyone starts mentioning my sleepovers with McNerdy and indeed PWG a few weeks ago allow me to clarify: there's action and then there's action. Normally, going long periods of time without action doesn't bother me. Except something has snapped and I have now decided that I need action. Enter Posh Work Guy.
My problem is deciphering whether PWG is willing to be my booty call. I have to tread carefully here because I work with him and thus see him everyday. So embarrassing myself would be extra embarrassing. This means drunk texts are a no go area. And while having a similar "I shaved my legs for this" incident like Vi did would get the point across, if it went wrong I'd have to see him the next day. Tricky. I did take control of the situation by inviting him out for drinks on Friday which he had to decline but had a genuine reason and said that we should definitely reschedule, this seems like a good sign. My next plan is to see what happens next week, we have someone's leaving drinks after work. A little bit of alcohol always helps right?
Let Operation Papa Smurf commence!
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Abstinence Works! (But who cares?)
Last week, I got an absolutely fabulous gift in the mail from Fenella: an album of our fabulous 10 days together. The album included both pictures (like the one above, seen on our roadtrip) as well as quotes. We thought we would share some of these quotes with you, completely out of context, for your enjoyment. We enjoyed making them.
"I'll make you a meal that will make you wet." -The Cute Neighbor
"I'll get all gooey and want to reproduce." -Violet
"Don't you know how to spread your legs?" -Fenella
"Aching uterus... ah!" -Vi again, can't shake the baby ache!
"Seven years of bad sex? I'm heading towards seven years of no sex..." -Fen, taking the billboard to heart ;)
"Pulsating vibrator" -generated by Mad Libs
"This is random, but... you totally have my permission to make out with McNerdy." -Vi
"Who needs a boyfriend when I have you?" I think Vi to Fen, but it could have been the other way around. There were lots of margaritas involved.
"I really hope he doesn't do something weird, like howl like a werewolf when he comes."
Monday, May 3, 2010
Sing me a song, Karaoke man
If there are any boys out there reading this (hey, it could happen), please make note, I am about to offer you the simplest advice on how to get girls to sleep with you:
Learn to play the guitar.
It is so hot. At least that's what I was thinking while sitting in the living room of the Karaoke kid while he and his roommate jammed out on Friday and Saturday night. As I fumbled along on the tambourine (which somehow I don't think has the same sex appeal), I couldn't help but think "Damnit, if it wasn't that time of the month he would so be getting lucky tonight." Actually the guitar playing was so hot I'd probably hook up with either of them. That's right, either of them.
So he rocks at Karaoke, plays and sings incredibly well on the guitar (apparently he frequents open mic nights), surely he has to be good at other things as well? Unfortunately I have yet to find out. After an innocent sleepover, KK and I walked to breakfast in the morning and back to my place. It was a gorgeous day on Saturday so we spent the rest of the morning sitting on my front porch with my roommates, watching the traffic and pedestrians, all the while he strummed my mom's old beat up guitar (and I thought it was unplayable...) making up songs that usually had something to do with sitting on a porch. He's good, and man do I love sitting around listening to someone play the guitar. Especially on a sunny porch. I think I may need to keep him around this summer. My roommate had the same not-so-subtle thought. "I like having you around, will you be G's summer fling?"
I believe his answer was a yes.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Nuns: A new breed of smug marrieds
I know I haven't posted in a while, but I had to share this with you guys...
Most of the time I'm fine with being a singleton. I have a lot of friends and stay really busy. Yes, I date, but I haven't found that special person who is worth giving up my freedom. Honestly, I'd pick an evening with friends over any of the guys I've been out with since January. So does this mean that it is my choice to be single? Sure, I would choose being single over dating a guy I'm not into. Isn't that how it should be? Why don't smug marrieds get that? Why do they have to imply that there is something wrong with me? My parents had friends visiting this weekend and I had to sit silently while they discussed how their daughters couldn't get guys and only have guy friends. They were implying that there must be something wrong with us. Why else would we not be able to snag one of these male friends? I wanted to cut in and say "I suppose it doesn't help that underneath our clothes our entire bodies are covered in scales."
Later in the weekend I was hanging out with a friend who recently got married. We ran into a nun from her church. I had met this nun before and she asked me if I was also married. I'm getting more used to this question; however, I was totally unprepared for her response. The nun told me that she would pray for me. So, yes, even nuns are smug marrieds now and singletons require prayer! What is this world coming to? I was nice and didn't point out the cons of being married to God to the smug married nun.
Most of the time I'm fine with being a singleton. I have a lot of friends and stay really busy. Yes, I date, but I haven't found that special person who is worth giving up my freedom. Honestly, I'd pick an evening with friends over any of the guys I've been out with since January. So does this mean that it is my choice to be single? Sure, I would choose being single over dating a guy I'm not into. Isn't that how it should be? Why don't smug marrieds get that? Why do they have to imply that there is something wrong with me? My parents had friends visiting this weekend and I had to sit silently while they discussed how their daughters couldn't get guys and only have guy friends. They were implying that there must be something wrong with us. Why else would we not be able to snag one of these male friends? I wanted to cut in and say "I suppose it doesn't help that underneath our clothes our entire bodies are covered in scales."
Later in the weekend I was hanging out with a friend who recently got married. We ran into a nun from her church. I had met this nun before and she asked me if I was also married. I'm getting more used to this question; however, I was totally unprepared for her response. The nun told me that she would pray for me. So, yes, even nuns are smug marrieds now and singletons require prayer! What is this world coming to? I was nice and didn't point out the cons of being married to God to the smug married nun.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)