Dating Myth #1: When one has an ACTUAL BOYFRIEND, life is simply shag, shag, shag all the time. Sex is available on demand, whenever, wherever.
Ha! Maybe in the early days. Then real life kicks in. Or worse, allergy season. I was pretty sure when I started being extra neighborly with the cute neighbor, that my days of sexual frustration were over. Unfortunately, there were a few things I forgot to factor in.
Sexual roadblock 1: Allergies. The cute neighbor has bad fall allergies. Seriously, the man will sneeze every 30 seconds for 5-10 minutes, (it actually gets pretty annoying) until he takes a meth pill. The meth pill (you know, what they make meth out of) makes him super jittery, thirsty, and not at all hungry. No wonder meth addicts are so skinny. At night, he needs to take a night-time pill, which knocks him right out. Not ideal for getting down to business. In the morning, just as I'm about to put the moves on, he'll beat me to the punch by saying, "I have to get up and take a pill. The snot is pooling in the back of my throat."
Mmmm. Sexy.
Sexual roadblock 2: An actual job. I don't have an actual job. I do not have deadlines. Nor do I have any stress. (Well, except the kind that comes from a nearly empty bank account.) The cute neighbor does. Right now, he's really, really busy. There are an awful lot of scientific codes that I don't understand that need to be cracked. He actually needs to get out of bed and get to work if he wants to have a career. I wonder what having a career as motivation is actually like and very much look forward to the day when I have one.
The good news is, it rained early this week, bringing in a change of weather. Ragweed count is waaaaay down. There is hope for the weekend. Fingers crossed!
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Saturday, September 25, 2010
It's not me, it's you.
Six months ago I was online looking for a mate. A roommate. It was a process that can only be compared to online dating. But worse. For being a bit of commitment phobe, meeting someone and immediately taking the relationship to the next level and moving in together is a bit much. So it's no surprise that 6 months later, I'm ready for a breakup. Because I like to avoid confrontation I shall put it in a letter.
Dear Roommate,
I'm sorry to say the the ship has sailed on this relationship. I'm just not in a place in my life that I can/want to give you what you need. I just need to focus on my career/personal life (that doesn't involve you) right now/for the forseeable future. I just hope that once you get your shit out of this apartment ASAP, we can still be (facebook) friends. It's not me, it's you.
Your (facebook) friend,
Grayer
Dear Roommate,
I'm sorry to say the the ship has sailed on this relationship. I'm just not in a place in my life that I can/want to give you what you need. I just need to focus on my career/personal life (that doesn't involve you) right now/for the forseeable future. I just hope that once you get your shit out of this apartment ASAP, we can still be (facebook) friends. It's not me, it's you.
- You're too needy. Honestly, when I come home for a 10 hour work day, starving and tired, the last thing I want to do is talk to you. You do not need to come out of your room when you hear me come home. I realize you are home alone all day doing whatever it is that you do and have few friends and therefore crave human attention, but you are not my cat, I do not have to spend time with you.
- It's in extreme poor taste to peek into my room just to give me a bad time about how messy it is. Sure you can keep yours clean (congratulations) but you never ever clean the rest of the apartment. This is why I said no to your idea of hiring someone (do it yourself, lazy ass) and implemented a cleaning schedule. That was for you! And you know what even when you do "clean", you still suck at it!
- Speaking of sucking, you are a giant slutbag. You know you are a giant slutbag and like to tell me your giant slutbag adventures. News flash: I don't care! You only tell me these things for attention, because you are an attention-seeking whore. Literally. I've seen you start stripping in the middle of the kitchen because your man-0-the-month was in a serious debate with our other roommate (i.e. not fawning over you). Clearly you have serious daddy issues but the slew of men you've brought around is disturbing and dangerous. Stop meeting someone on OkCupid and sleeping with them on the first date. Seriously, it's unsafe! (but thanks for at least not bringing any of those home...that I know of). And while we're on the subject, morning shower sex at 8am on a Wednesday in the one bathroom we have in this apartment is NOT ok!
- I'm embarrassed to introduce you to my friends. When you met the Mutual Friend you announced you're fuck buddy was coming over, then announced that you were going to have sex, which you proceeded to do loudly, while we awkwardly sat in the living room. When you met Mary, you thought it was appropriate to play "Let me guess your heritage" (FYI you cannot tell the difference between Korean and Chinese etc, so stop pretending you can). When you met June, you assumed she was Mary because you saw an Asian. Asians do not look alike (especially these two) and I now think you are racist. I know you really like my friends, but my friends really do not like you.
- Stop using my shit. And especially stop using my shit and lying about it. I know you ruined my kitchen towels and proceeded to throw them away. Let me clarify, I know you ruined my deceased grandmother's kitchen towels that Violet and I got for her from Ireland and proceeded to throw them away without telling me and later lying about it. Also, I know you and/or your man-o-the-month were using my toothpaste and then lied about it. Firstly, you should have asked before you started using it (for who knows how long, I only noticed because you started leaving the cap open). And secondly, that grosses me out. Unless I'm related to you, friends with you, or making out with you, I do not share my toothpaste! And since I'm pretty sure that both of you have STDs of the mouth, I now have hidden toothpaste (and a toothbrush for good measures).
- Either you're extremely stupid (possibly) or just don't care about it, but you seriously need a lesson on recyclables. Since I'm the one who usually takes out the recycling I feel the need to tell you this. Recyclables: milk jugs, aluminum cans, newspapers, etc. Nonrecyclables: pillow cases, tissues, tampon applicators, used condoms. And yes, those are things you've tried to recycle. Please stop. Condoms can't even be reused let alone recycled.
Your (facebook) friend,
Grayer
Friday, September 24, 2010
Woman on Top
It's lonely at the top. Especially when you're a woman. I know you're probably thinking, "Violet, you barely have a job! How can you possibly be in charge of something?" But I am in charge. I am in charge of my Thursday night, rec-league slow-pitch softball team. Don't scoff. It's a stressful job. And one that I am VERY qualified for. My softball resume is pretty impressive. I've been playing this game for almost (ALMOST) 20 years. I've been playing softball longer than I've been doing anything else. Except breathing and walking. And eating. And going to the bathroom, but you get the point. I know what I'm doing.
Unfortuantely, my lack of a penis makes people think otherwise.
My team is pretty good. We win a lot, anyway. The cute neighbor plays on our team. I had actually asked him to play right before we started dating when Duke Logan moved away, and to my relief, he's good. He's the most solid shortstop we have, and for those of you new to the sport, shortstop is a key position. If you don't have a good shortstop in slow-pitch softball, you're not going to win much.
Last night, we had 11 people show up for our game. 3 of us were (and still are) women, so according to the co-ed rules, we could only play 9 at a time, and all 3 women had to be on the field at all times. Our normal pitcher wasn't there, so we had to go with The Back-up. The Back-up is, I'm sure, good at many things. Softball isn't one of them. He used to play shortstop, and as a direct result, we really never won. He has no arm to speak of, and never, EVER has any idea what to do with the ball when he gets it. Even when I specifically tell him, "Play's at second", he immediately goes to first, without ever thinking about it. Occasionally, he hits the ball, but not too often.
The game started with two guys on the bench. They seemed to be ok with that. The Back-up got off to an ok start, but then he started walking people. A lot of people. He walked the bases loaded. Then he walked a run home. I yelled for Baldo to start warming up. The Back-up actually said to me, "I know their strategy. They're not swinging. It took every ounce of self-control not to roll my eyes. "Throw strikes then. They'll swing." We got out of the inning, thanks to a lucky double play (turned by the cute neighbor), but the damage was done. I told The Back-up I was putting Baldo in the next inning. He was pissed.
Of course, because of the numbers, I had to sit several players. I did my best to make it an even rotation and get everybody in, but that didn't stop them from bitching and moaning about it. I was fair; I sat everyone, with two exceptions. One was the cute neighbor. He played because he's the only one who can play shortstop that well at all. He was also 3-4 at the plate. The second was our best hitter, who is crap in the field, but can hit the ball a mile, and I couldn't afford to take his bat out of the lineup. This however, means one thing: at after-game drinks (which I didn't attend) the conversation probably went like this: "Who put fucking Violet in charge of the lineup? Notice how the cute neighbor never sat out? Maybe if I start boning Vi, I won't have to sit out either." Yeah, I'm pretty sure it went something like that.
After I got home, I started to get pissed. It occured to me that if I were a man, no one would have complained. They wouldn't have questioned my decisions. When our normal pitcher was in charge of the lineup, people rotated in and out, and no one questioned it. It's good to know my boobs directly affect my ability to run a rec-league softball team.
Next week, I'm sending out a team email before our game. It's going to go something like this.
Team,
As you all know, we have more people on our team than there are positions on the field. Therefore, not everyone can play at the same time. Those sitting out an inning or two will be men, as that is what the rules dictate. No amount of whining or complaining is going to change that. Everyone will play, everyone will sit, that's just the way it is. If you want to ensure you get to play all the time, I recommend an ungodly dose of hormones and a really good razor. Or grow a pair and take it like a man.
Ok, it won't be as harsh, but that's the idea.
Unfortuantely, my lack of a penis makes people think otherwise.
My team is pretty good. We win a lot, anyway. The cute neighbor plays on our team. I had actually asked him to play right before we started dating when Duke Logan moved away, and to my relief, he's good. He's the most solid shortstop we have, and for those of you new to the sport, shortstop is a key position. If you don't have a good shortstop in slow-pitch softball, you're not going to win much.
Last night, we had 11 people show up for our game. 3 of us were (and still are) women, so according to the co-ed rules, we could only play 9 at a time, and all 3 women had to be on the field at all times. Our normal pitcher wasn't there, so we had to go with The Back-up. The Back-up is, I'm sure, good at many things. Softball isn't one of them. He used to play shortstop, and as a direct result, we really never won. He has no arm to speak of, and never, EVER has any idea what to do with the ball when he gets it. Even when I specifically tell him, "Play's at second", he immediately goes to first, without ever thinking about it. Occasionally, he hits the ball, but not too often.
The game started with two guys on the bench. They seemed to be ok with that. The Back-up got off to an ok start, but then he started walking people. A lot of people. He walked the bases loaded. Then he walked a run home. I yelled for Baldo to start warming up. The Back-up actually said to me, "I know their strategy. They're not swinging. It took every ounce of self-control not to roll my eyes. "Throw strikes then. They'll swing." We got out of the inning, thanks to a lucky double play (turned by the cute neighbor), but the damage was done. I told The Back-up I was putting Baldo in the next inning. He was pissed.
Of course, because of the numbers, I had to sit several players. I did my best to make it an even rotation and get everybody in, but that didn't stop them from bitching and moaning about it. I was fair; I sat everyone, with two exceptions. One was the cute neighbor. He played because he's the only one who can play shortstop that well at all. He was also 3-4 at the plate. The second was our best hitter, who is crap in the field, but can hit the ball a mile, and I couldn't afford to take his bat out of the lineup. This however, means one thing: at after-game drinks (which I didn't attend) the conversation probably went like this: "Who put fucking Violet in charge of the lineup? Notice how the cute neighbor never sat out? Maybe if I start boning Vi, I won't have to sit out either." Yeah, I'm pretty sure it went something like that.
After I got home, I started to get pissed. It occured to me that if I were a man, no one would have complained. They wouldn't have questioned my decisions. When our normal pitcher was in charge of the lineup, people rotated in and out, and no one questioned it. It's good to know my boobs directly affect my ability to run a rec-league softball team.
Next week, I'm sending out a team email before our game. It's going to go something like this.
Team,
As you all know, we have more people on our team than there are positions on the field. Therefore, not everyone can play at the same time. Those sitting out an inning or two will be men, as that is what the rules dictate. No amount of whining or complaining is going to change that. Everyone will play, everyone will sit, that's just the way it is. If you want to ensure you get to play all the time, I recommend an ungodly dose of hormones and a really good razor. Or grow a pair and take it like a man.
Ok, it won't be as harsh, but that's the idea.
Going the Distance
I've been in a long distance relationship for about 2 years now. I've tried long distance relationships before but they haven't worked out. This one though seems to be surviving the trials and tribulations of living on separate continents, in separate time zones with a gigantic ocean in between us.
Did I mention that I'm in a long distance relationship with Vi? OK, so a long distance friendship, but seriously, it can still be hard!
Apart from when we lived in Peru (which although it was real life, it wasn't really real life - there wasn't a movie theatre for goodness sake!) Vi and I have never had a 'normal' friendship. We can't just pick up the phone when we need to chat, although Skype is a marvelous invention. If one of us is feeling down we can't go round and cheer the other up with girly DVDs, margaritas and ice cream. There have been times when one of us has desperately wanted, nay needed, to chat to the other but due to a 5 hour time difference all you can do is send your email into cyber space and wait a few hours. We go over a year without seeing each other and seeing each other is pretty expensive (but awesome). So long distance friendships can suck.
But ours is pretty amazing. We tell each other everything (we have no line). Getting happy mail has never been more fun (has my card arrived yet Vi?!) and every morning at work when I'm eating my breakfast the day starts off on a good note as I read Vi's email from the night before.
And so, I feel this is proof that long distance can work. Vi, I'm sorry my head has been all over the place lately with moving and house dramas. My emails have been shorter and scattier than usual and we haven't skyped in ages - but you are, and always will be my person!
Too mushy?
Did I mention that I'm in a long distance relationship with Vi? OK, so a long distance friendship, but seriously, it can still be hard!
Apart from when we lived in Peru (which although it was real life, it wasn't really real life - there wasn't a movie theatre for goodness sake!) Vi and I have never had a 'normal' friendship. We can't just pick up the phone when we need to chat, although Skype is a marvelous invention. If one of us is feeling down we can't go round and cheer the other up with girly DVDs, margaritas and ice cream. There have been times when one of us has desperately wanted, nay needed, to chat to the other but due to a 5 hour time difference all you can do is send your email into cyber space and wait a few hours. We go over a year without seeing each other and seeing each other is pretty expensive (but awesome). So long distance friendships can suck.
But ours is pretty amazing. We tell each other everything (we have no line). Getting happy mail has never been more fun (has my card arrived yet Vi?!) and every morning at work when I'm eating my breakfast the day starts off on a good note as I read Vi's email from the night before.
And so, I feel this is proof that long distance can work. Vi, I'm sorry my head has been all over the place lately with moving and house dramas. My emails have been shorter and scattier than usual and we haven't skyped in ages - but you are, and always will be my person!
Too mushy?
Monday, September 20, 2010
Birthday Bliss to Nearly Dismissed
Ah, yes. The Birthday.
This year got off to a particularly great start. First of all, for the first time in memory, I did not wake up alone. Unless, of course, you count two years ago when I woke up on the bottom bunk in a Buenos Aires hostel, with Fenella on the top bunk, and a hairy Frenchman in the next bed. No hairy Frenchman this year, just the cute neighbor to say "Happy Birthday!" when the alarm went off. Not only that, but I did get birthday booty before the sun had properly come up. Excellent start.
The cute neighbor took me out for dinner. He showed up with flowers, a bit of a surprise since flowers don't seem to be much of his style, and a present. (A book I mentioned weeks ago and had actually forgotten the title of, but wished I had remembered so I could have told someone to get it for me for my birthday. Problem solved!) Dinner was by far the nicest I've ever been treated to. One of the nicest restaurants in town, and we went all out: bottle of wine, appetizer, tapas, and dessert. Everything was delicious. Then out to meet friends for drinks, then home for more birthday booty. Perfect.
Then on Sunday, we very nearly broke up.
Here is the Cliff's Notes version of what happened, with a bit of back story first. The Cute Neighbor's job is moving next summer. Therefore, the cute neighbor is moving next summer. There is really no way he is going to find a job doing what he wants to do here. I've always known this; he found out about this before we even started dating. Therefore, I've always had the attitude of "we'll see what happens" regarding our relationship. We'll do our thing until he leaves, or until we can't stand the sight of each other. Then when it's time, we'll have a decision to make. If we want to make it work, we'll figure something out. If we don't, we'll cut our losses and move on. In my opinion, this isn't much different from other relationships, since there are never any guarantees.
Unfortunately, the cute neighbor seems to think I already have our childrens' names picked out. Yes, I realize I'm baby crazy, but believe it or not, I don't have names picked out for my future children. Seriously. Nor do I have a wedding all planned out and am just looking for a groom. I can actually see why the cute neighbor thinks this, and it's my fault, but also the economy's fault. Once I stopped working for Eloise, I was suddenly home in the middle of the afternoon. It gets a bit lonely, and by the end of the work day, I'm hungry for some human interaction. So of course, I found myself texting the cute neighbor far too often, and looking for a dinner companion immediately after he got home from a full day at work. I will admit, I was a bit needy. And if there's one thing I'm not, it's needy. I'm happy to say, that while I STILL don't have a full-time job, I've gotten much better in the last month, since I've been volunteering, and have a weekly Monday Night Walk scheduled with a new friend. Seriously, those two little things have made a big difference.
Back to Sunday, it was a bit scary, as I sat on the cute neighbor's couch as we discussed "our situation". As things got serious, I looked down and realized I was only wearing a t-shirt and underwear. I quickly jumped up, ran back to his bedroom, and threw my shorts on. There was no way I was going to be dumped wearing just my underwear AGAIN.
I didn't get dumped, but we left things up in the air for the better part of the day as we went our separate ways. When we reconvened, I explained to the cute neighbor that what he thinks my expectations are and what they actually are, are two different things. Never have I asked him for a house and a dog and 2.3 children. Yes, I'm really, really into him, but I'm very, very aware of the reality of the situation. He said he just didn't want me to be hurt and disappointed in June when he has to move. I told him in all honesty I would be more hurt and disappointed if he just decided to end things now without seeing where they would lead. And that's where things stand. Taking everything one day at a time. Which is what I thought we were doing all along.
Geesh, relationships are hard work. Maybe meaningless, casual sex is the way to go?
This year got off to a particularly great start. First of all, for the first time in memory, I did not wake up alone. Unless, of course, you count two years ago when I woke up on the bottom bunk in a Buenos Aires hostel, with Fenella on the top bunk, and a hairy Frenchman in the next bed. No hairy Frenchman this year, just the cute neighbor to say "Happy Birthday!" when the alarm went off. Not only that, but I did get birthday booty before the sun had properly come up. Excellent start.
The cute neighbor took me out for dinner. He showed up with flowers, a bit of a surprise since flowers don't seem to be much of his style, and a present. (A book I mentioned weeks ago and had actually forgotten the title of, but wished I had remembered so I could have told someone to get it for me for my birthday. Problem solved!) Dinner was by far the nicest I've ever been treated to. One of the nicest restaurants in town, and we went all out: bottle of wine, appetizer, tapas, and dessert. Everything was delicious. Then out to meet friends for drinks, then home for more birthday booty. Perfect.
Then on Sunday, we very nearly broke up.
Here is the Cliff's Notes version of what happened, with a bit of back story first. The Cute Neighbor's job is moving next summer. Therefore, the cute neighbor is moving next summer. There is really no way he is going to find a job doing what he wants to do here. I've always known this; he found out about this before we even started dating. Therefore, I've always had the attitude of "we'll see what happens" regarding our relationship. We'll do our thing until he leaves, or until we can't stand the sight of each other. Then when it's time, we'll have a decision to make. If we want to make it work, we'll figure something out. If we don't, we'll cut our losses and move on. In my opinion, this isn't much different from other relationships, since there are never any guarantees.
Unfortunately, the cute neighbor seems to think I already have our childrens' names picked out. Yes, I realize I'm baby crazy, but believe it or not, I don't have names picked out for my future children. Seriously. Nor do I have a wedding all planned out and am just looking for a groom. I can actually see why the cute neighbor thinks this, and it's my fault, but also the economy's fault. Once I stopped working for Eloise, I was suddenly home in the middle of the afternoon. It gets a bit lonely, and by the end of the work day, I'm hungry for some human interaction. So of course, I found myself texting the cute neighbor far too often, and looking for a dinner companion immediately after he got home from a full day at work. I will admit, I was a bit needy. And if there's one thing I'm not, it's needy. I'm happy to say, that while I STILL don't have a full-time job, I've gotten much better in the last month, since I've been volunteering, and have a weekly Monday Night Walk scheduled with a new friend. Seriously, those two little things have made a big difference.
Back to Sunday, it was a bit scary, as I sat on the cute neighbor's couch as we discussed "our situation". As things got serious, I looked down and realized I was only wearing a t-shirt and underwear. I quickly jumped up, ran back to his bedroom, and threw my shorts on. There was no way I was going to be dumped wearing just my underwear AGAIN.
I didn't get dumped, but we left things up in the air for the better part of the day as we went our separate ways. When we reconvened, I explained to the cute neighbor that what he thinks my expectations are and what they actually are, are two different things. Never have I asked him for a house and a dog and 2.3 children. Yes, I'm really, really into him, but I'm very, very aware of the reality of the situation. He said he just didn't want me to be hurt and disappointed in June when he has to move. I told him in all honesty I would be more hurt and disappointed if he just decided to end things now without seeing where they would lead. And that's where things stand. Taking everything one day at a time. Which is what I thought we were doing all along.
Geesh, relationships are hard work. Maybe meaningless, casual sex is the way to go?
Friday, September 17, 2010
Happy Birthday, Violet!
Today is Violet's birthday. Today our parents will call to sing to her over the phone (her favorite!). Today is the day that I have to stop making fun of her for getting old because I sense that she doesn't find it funny anymore. Today Violet will be taken out to dinner by her ACTUAL BOYFRIEND. Today Violet's friends will buy her drinks. Today Violet will hopefully drunk text me some good material. Today Violet will get Birthday Booty. Today Violet will realize that this year is bound to be her best one yet (Birthday Booty promises that).
Enjoy your day Violet. It's sure to be a good one.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Facebook Stalkers
I'm moving in three days time. I'm away for work this weekend. My room is a mess. What else is there to do but blog?
Facebook has a lot to answer for. Mainly, the arrival of Facebook fuckwittage, serious procrastination when writing anything school / college related, causing awkward situations to arise - like Conrad's dad adding you as a Facebook friend, and the ability for stalkers to well, stalk. (Vi, have you ever blogged about your Facebook stalker?) And speaking of Facebook stalkers I thought I would share a funny little story.
Monday night I was round the White Horse's. We were watching TV with his roommate. His roommate was on Facebook and an old friend from school (female) pinged up on his Facebook chat (error #1 - don't have your Facebook chat set to online all the time). He mentioned this to us and said he didn't really want to talk to her. I said that he shouldn't be mean, just chat for a minute or so then make your excuses. The following is the chat that then took place:
Her: Hey, how are you?
Him: Fine thanks, you?
Her: I work at Tesco (UK supermarket chain), not married, no kids. You? (Yes, she volunteered that information)
Him: Divorced. Three times. Don't think I have any kids but you never know do you? Pulled my hamstring. (He thought that a sentence like this, dripping with sarcasm would have some effect)
Her: Fancy meeting up some time? (Subtle)
Him: Yeah, it would be good to get a group of us together from school. (That was my suggestion, I thought she would get the hint)
Her: Cool!! I'll arrange something. What's your number?
Him: It's on my Facebook page. (Error #2 - be wary about having your number on you FB page)
They then send their goodbyes. The White Horse and I were finding this whole conversation pretty funny. The girl was obviously very, very keen and none too subtle. It gets better.
No more than 2 minutes after he signed off Facebook chat...his phone started ringing. She didn't get the hint when he didn't pick up - she left a voicemail saying she couldn't wait for them to meet up.
I hadn't laughed so hard in ages. I tried to feel a bit bad for her, I've been there - you like a guy but he doesn't feel the same way. But relly, she was just a little too keen.
However, as funny as this was, let this be a warning to us all. There are crazy people out there. And they might very well be our Facebook friends...
Facebook has a lot to answer for. Mainly, the arrival of Facebook fuckwittage, serious procrastination when writing anything school / college related, causing awkward situations to arise - like Conrad's dad adding you as a Facebook friend, and the ability for stalkers to well, stalk. (Vi, have you ever blogged about your Facebook stalker?) And speaking of Facebook stalkers I thought I would share a funny little story.
Monday night I was round the White Horse's. We were watching TV with his roommate. His roommate was on Facebook and an old friend from school (female) pinged up on his Facebook chat (error #1 - don't have your Facebook chat set to online all the time). He mentioned this to us and said he didn't really want to talk to her. I said that he shouldn't be mean, just chat for a minute or so then make your excuses. The following is the chat that then took place:
Her: Hey, how are you?
Him: Fine thanks, you?
Her: I work at Tesco (UK supermarket chain), not married, no kids. You? (Yes, she volunteered that information)
Him: Divorced. Three times. Don't think I have any kids but you never know do you? Pulled my hamstring. (He thought that a sentence like this, dripping with sarcasm would have some effect)
Her: Fancy meeting up some time? (Subtle)
Him: Yeah, it would be good to get a group of us together from school. (That was my suggestion, I thought she would get the hint)
Her: Cool!! I'll arrange something. What's your number?
Him: It's on my Facebook page. (Error #2 - be wary about having your number on you FB page)
They then send their goodbyes. The White Horse and I were finding this whole conversation pretty funny. The girl was obviously very, very keen and none too subtle. It gets better.
No more than 2 minutes after he signed off Facebook chat...his phone started ringing. She didn't get the hint when he didn't pick up - she left a voicemail saying she couldn't wait for them to meet up.
I hadn't laughed so hard in ages. I tried to feel a bit bad for her, I've been there - you like a guy but he doesn't feel the same way. But relly, she was just a little too keen.
However, as funny as this was, let this be a warning to us all. There are crazy people out there. And they might very well be our Facebook friends...
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
The (Mini) Conversation
The White Horse is in Italy for 5 days. This sucks but on the plus side I can catch up on the sleep I've been deprived of lately, make it in to work early to get things done, and I need time to move house.
As great as things are going with TWH I feel it is starting to get to that stage where we may need to have The Conversation. Which is never fun now is it?
Part of me is wondering if it's too soon to even consider having The Conversation, in fact it is, because we've only been seeing each other for 3 weeks. And I have a serious habit of falling too hard too fast and I don't want to make that mistake again. But then, it's not like we have only known each other for 3 weeks, we've been friends for quite a few months. Dilemma.
I was doing fine and not really caring about all of the 'where is this going'? nonsense. Very unlike me, but it turns out, I can be fairly mellow and relaxed. But then the other night I was round his, he was packing to go on holiday and I was a little bored. His laptop was turned on and I decided I could use my time wisely and email Vi. I asked if I could check my emails and he said I could. Except I forgot that when it's your computer you don't bother about passwords and logging in, so when I typed in gmail, his email account automatically started loading. And I wasn't fast enough to stop it. But as soon as I could I logged off. Not before seeing that he had quite a few emails (unread, I hasten to add) from match.com.
Now, I need to stress that I am not freaked out by the fact that he is signed up to a dating site. In fact, I seem to recall him mentioning that at some point. Nor do I think that he should've deleted his profile straight after he and I started, well, whatever we started. I only just got round to deleting my online profile a month or so ago. And the emails were all unread.
No, what (accidentally) seeing those emails meant was that I started thinking about where things are going. Not in a dramatic fashion but more so in a 'are we exclusive'? type fashion. And the thing is, seeing those emails made me realise, because I hadn't really thought about it before, that I would quite like it if I was the only girl he's seeing. And that it really sucks him being away for 5 days. Just because I'm moving you understand, I could've put him to work.
I think the signs that we're exclusive and that things are going well are all there:
* I got introduced to some of his friends on Sunday
* When we were talking to his friends about the whole working together thing, he said that we were 'seeing each other'
* I spend about 3 nights a week at his
* He suggests meeting up more so than I do
* He emailed me at work today to let me know that his phone doesn't work in Italy but that he got there and that he can't wait til next week when he gets to see me. He's in Italy. I'd be focusing on the pizza, but I'll take it.
So I don't think having The Conversation would be terribly painful but it's too soon. I'm happy for things to continue as they are, but as I said, it's the 'exclusive' issue, I'm not saying we have to do the whole boyfriend/girlfriend thing. So, it's too soon for The Conversation but maybe we need to have The (Mini) Conversation? I hate this. Help.
As great as things are going with TWH I feel it is starting to get to that stage where we may need to have The Conversation. Which is never fun now is it?
Part of me is wondering if it's too soon to even consider having The Conversation, in fact it is, because we've only been seeing each other for 3 weeks. And I have a serious habit of falling too hard too fast and I don't want to make that mistake again. But then, it's not like we have only known each other for 3 weeks, we've been friends for quite a few months. Dilemma.
I was doing fine and not really caring about all of the 'where is this going'? nonsense. Very unlike me, but it turns out, I can be fairly mellow and relaxed. But then the other night I was round his, he was packing to go on holiday and I was a little bored. His laptop was turned on and I decided I could use my time wisely and email Vi. I asked if I could check my emails and he said I could. Except I forgot that when it's your computer you don't bother about passwords and logging in, so when I typed in gmail, his email account automatically started loading. And I wasn't fast enough to stop it. But as soon as I could I logged off. Not before seeing that he had quite a few emails (unread, I hasten to add) from match.com.
Now, I need to stress that I am not freaked out by the fact that he is signed up to a dating site. In fact, I seem to recall him mentioning that at some point. Nor do I think that he should've deleted his profile straight after he and I started, well, whatever we started. I only just got round to deleting my online profile a month or so ago. And the emails were all unread.
No, what (accidentally) seeing those emails meant was that I started thinking about where things are going. Not in a dramatic fashion but more so in a 'are we exclusive'? type fashion. And the thing is, seeing those emails made me realise, because I hadn't really thought about it before, that I would quite like it if I was the only girl he's seeing. And that it really sucks him being away for 5 days. Just because I'm moving you understand, I could've put him to work.
I think the signs that we're exclusive and that things are going well are all there:
* I got introduced to some of his friends on Sunday
* When we were talking to his friends about the whole working together thing, he said that we were 'seeing each other'
* I spend about 3 nights a week at his
* He suggests meeting up more so than I do
* He emailed me at work today to let me know that his phone doesn't work in Italy but that he got there and that he can't wait til next week when he gets to see me. He's in Italy. I'd be focusing on the pizza, but I'll take it.
So I don't think having The Conversation would be terribly painful but it's too soon. I'm happy for things to continue as they are, but as I said, it's the 'exclusive' issue, I'm not saying we have to do the whole boyfriend/girlfriend thing. So, it's too soon for The Conversation but maybe we need to have The (Mini) Conversation? I hate this. Help.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Grown-ups
We're adults. When did that happen? And how do we make it stop?
-Meredith Grey
Yup. We're grown-ups. I know this because today I took my car in to get an emission inspection and then wrote a check to the county commissioner to renew the tag on my car. (Special thanks to the state of Georgia for requiring all car tags to be renewed on your birthday. What a great birthday gift!) All the while thinking, this is such a grown-up thing to do. It is solely my responsibility to do this. If I don't do it, I will get a ticket. College is not grown-up. In college, my dad would have taken care of that for me.
Don't get me wrong. There are some awesome things about being an adult. Most of them, really. As a kid, I never would have been able to eat half a pint of Ben & Jerry's in the middle of the afternoon, straight out of the carton. I couldn't stay out as late as I wanted or drink tequila or watch any movie I wanted to. And of course there's the sex. We can't forget about that.
But before we get caught up in our Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough, orgasmic reverie, a letter arrives in the mail from the county tax commissioner demanding a check so that you can drive to work legally. Or your car insurance. Or the student loans. (And to prove that I have been a grown-up for awhile now, I have officially paid off the entirety of my student loans. All of it! Am officially debt-free. Go ahead. Congratulate me.) And all the decisions that have to be made. Where to live? What to do with your life? It's all so very difficult. And stressful. Very stressful. But that's why we have ice cream. And the sex.
-Meredith Grey
Yup. We're grown-ups. I know this because today I took my car in to get an emission inspection and then wrote a check to the county commissioner to renew the tag on my car. (Special thanks to the state of Georgia for requiring all car tags to be renewed on your birthday. What a great birthday gift!) All the while thinking, this is such a grown-up thing to do. It is solely my responsibility to do this. If I don't do it, I will get a ticket. College is not grown-up. In college, my dad would have taken care of that for me.
Don't get me wrong. There are some awesome things about being an adult. Most of them, really. As a kid, I never would have been able to eat half a pint of Ben & Jerry's in the middle of the afternoon, straight out of the carton. I couldn't stay out as late as I wanted or drink tequila or watch any movie I wanted to. And of course there's the sex. We can't forget about that.
But before we get caught up in our Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough, orgasmic reverie, a letter arrives in the mail from the county tax commissioner demanding a check so that you can drive to work legally. Or your car insurance. Or the student loans. (And to prove that I have been a grown-up for awhile now, I have officially paid off the entirety of my student loans. All of it! Am officially debt-free. Go ahead. Congratulate me.) And all the decisions that have to be made. Where to live? What to do with your life? It's all so very difficult. And stressful. Very stressful. But that's why we have ice cream. And the sex.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Judgement day
Guess what? Tomorrow I'm going to Atlanta. Tomorrow I get to see Violet, my favorite sister in the whole wide world. Tomorrow I get to meet her ACTUAL BOYFRIEND and judge the cute neighbor for myself.
Fenella seemed to like him. Our parents thought he was "nice". Now it's my turn. Alright cute neighbor, show me what you got.
Fenella seemed to like him. Our parents thought he was "nice". Now it's my turn. Alright cute neighbor, show me what you got.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
No more box checking
Huh.
A week and a half after my slutty weekend and the White Horse and I are...well, something. I've spent three nights at his since. We email or text, or both, everyday. When we were out with work people last Friday (sneakily holding hands under the table as, in case you're not keeping up, we work together and work people don't know) and one of the guys was asking every one's relationship status the White Horse replied: "it's early days" - whilst squeezing my hand. I said I was single - I'm being sensible you see - no going in head first, eyes closed and hands tied behind my back.
So I think things are going well.
Weird thing is, I was thinking the other day how he isn't 'my type' at all. And, if I were to have check boxes when it comes to guys (which I don't) he wouldn't check any of them. He's only two years older than me, I prefer older. He's ridiculously into soccer (sigh), he likes wearing soccer shirts (double sigh) and he's not taller than me. We're exactly the same height (triple sigh).
But here's the thing. He makes me laugh. We stay up til three in the morning talking, (which makes work the next day a pain but there you are) he makes me tea in the morning and he lets me rant all the time about my annoying housemates. And he just replied to my text saying that he was just thinking about me. Which was about five minutes ago and I haven't quite stopped smiling.
So check boxes and ideal types are just ridiculous and should be thrown out the window. Why should we think that we can box guys into categories and only if they meet certain requirements should we view them worthy of dating us? It all depends on the guy and how he makes you feel. Which I'm sure we all knew anyway, I'm merely reinforcing.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have a text to reply to.
A week and a half after my slutty weekend and the White Horse and I are...well, something. I've spent three nights at his since. We email or text, or both, everyday. When we were out with work people last Friday (sneakily holding hands under the table as, in case you're not keeping up, we work together and work people don't know) and one of the guys was asking every one's relationship status the White Horse replied: "it's early days" - whilst squeezing my hand. I said I was single - I'm being sensible you see - no going in head first, eyes closed and hands tied behind my back.
So I think things are going well.
Weird thing is, I was thinking the other day how he isn't 'my type' at all. And, if I were to have check boxes when it comes to guys (which I don't) he wouldn't check any of them. He's only two years older than me, I prefer older. He's ridiculously into soccer (sigh), he likes wearing soccer shirts (double sigh) and he's not taller than me. We're exactly the same height (triple sigh).
But here's the thing. He makes me laugh. We stay up til three in the morning talking, (which makes work the next day a pain but there you are) he makes me tea in the morning and he lets me rant all the time about my annoying housemates. And he just replied to my text saying that he was just thinking about me. Which was about five minutes ago and I haven't quite stopped smiling.
So check boxes and ideal types are just ridiculous and should be thrown out the window. Why should we think that we can box guys into categories and only if they meet certain requirements should we view them worthy of dating us? It all depends on the guy and how he makes you feel. Which I'm sure we all knew anyway, I'm merely reinforcing.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have a text to reply to.
Friday, September 3, 2010
Funemployment
I'm not technically unemployed. Technically, I have a job. Unemployment statistics don't count the underemployed, which is what I am- and woefully so. Sometimes I wonder if collecting unemployment would actually be more profitable than the meager income I have now. I've been spending my afternoons alone at my computer, searching fruitlessly for jobs to apply to and getting frustrated by the fact that the phone isn't ringing and wondering why my resume appears to be made out of invisible ink.
The last few weeks, however, I've been taking time out of my strict schedule of feeling sorry for myself by volunteering. Why I didn't start doing this earlier, I have no idea. I discovered the volunteer opportunity when I applied for a job at this particular organization. Of course they didn't even call me for an interview, even though I was more than qualified for the job, (and would be damn good at it) but while I was perusing their website, I saw a contact email for those interested in volunteering. I didn't hesitate.
The organization works with refugees, and the volunteer coordinator was practically salivating when I told her my background (nanny, tutor, English teacher to those who don't speak a word of it), so once my background check cleared she set me up with a refugee family with four children, only one of which kind of speaks English. I was actually really excited about that.
I think Joey was right when he told Phoebe that there's no such thing as a selfish good deed. I was having a rather blah day last week: no work at all, so I hadn't even bothered to put a bra on until two o'clock in the afternoon and feeling generally shitty about the fact that I was home while everyone else was out having a career. Then I went to their tiny two-bedroom apartment (for 6 people) and my day got a million times better. I've mostly been helping the two older kids with their homework, which requires teaching the 7-year-old how to read. But I've also been helping their mother with English (putting post-it notes on everything in the apartment), teaching her how to write checks, and going through their mail so she knows what to throw out and what is important.
It wasn't until today though, that I realized something: the mother and I are the same age. I was going over "what's in a wallet" and on my driver's license she pointed out the year I was born. It wasn't until I got in my car that it hit me: She noticed it because she was born in the same year. And that's where our similarities end. She's married, with four children- the oldest one 11, making her a mom at the ripe old age of 17. She was also forced out of her own country by a government that wouldn't allow her to speak her own language or practice her own traditions and into a refugee camp, where she most likely gave birth to her youngest child. So yeah, it kind of puts things into perspective.
I'm going to remember this the next time I'm about to vent an angry email to Fen about how no one will hire me. From now on, I'm calling it funemployment. It's an opportunity to do things at 2 in the afternoon that I won't be able to do when I finally get a job. Because I will get a job. The recession won't last forever. Right?
The last few weeks, however, I've been taking time out of my strict schedule of feeling sorry for myself by volunteering. Why I didn't start doing this earlier, I have no idea. I discovered the volunteer opportunity when I applied for a job at this particular organization. Of course they didn't even call me for an interview, even though I was more than qualified for the job, (and would be damn good at it) but while I was perusing their website, I saw a contact email for those interested in volunteering. I didn't hesitate.
The organization works with refugees, and the volunteer coordinator was practically salivating when I told her my background (nanny, tutor, English teacher to those who don't speak a word of it), so once my background check cleared she set me up with a refugee family with four children, only one of which kind of speaks English. I was actually really excited about that.
I think Joey was right when he told Phoebe that there's no such thing as a selfish good deed. I was having a rather blah day last week: no work at all, so I hadn't even bothered to put a bra on until two o'clock in the afternoon and feeling generally shitty about the fact that I was home while everyone else was out having a career. Then I went to their tiny two-bedroom apartment (for 6 people) and my day got a million times better. I've mostly been helping the two older kids with their homework, which requires teaching the 7-year-old how to read. But I've also been helping their mother with English (putting post-it notes on everything in the apartment), teaching her how to write checks, and going through their mail so she knows what to throw out and what is important.
It wasn't until today though, that I realized something: the mother and I are the same age. I was going over "what's in a wallet" and on my driver's license she pointed out the year I was born. It wasn't until I got in my car that it hit me: She noticed it because she was born in the same year. And that's where our similarities end. She's married, with four children- the oldest one 11, making her a mom at the ripe old age of 17. She was also forced out of her own country by a government that wouldn't allow her to speak her own language or practice her own traditions and into a refugee camp, where she most likely gave birth to her youngest child. So yeah, it kind of puts things into perspective.
I'm going to remember this the next time I'm about to vent an angry email to Fen about how no one will hire me. From now on, I'm calling it funemployment. It's an opportunity to do things at 2 in the afternoon that I won't be able to do when I finally get a job. Because I will get a job. The recession won't last forever. Right?
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