Yesterday, I turned 26. Not only did Violet send me an e-card, so did OkCupid (yes, I'm still on it, and details will be coming soon). They sent me a picture of a cupcake. They said, "Happy Birthday Grayer! Still single?" Hence, the one lone cupcake. They changed my age on OkCupid for me. I'm no longer mid-twenties. I'm mid-late twenties. Ugh. Is this a marketing strategy? To remind patrons that they are older and still alone?? Thanks, I hadn't noticed. Birthdays aren't as fun as they used to be, but before I get too wistful about my mom making me waffles for breakfast and bringing cupcakes into school, we must remember the single greatest birthday gift a singleton like myself can receive: Birthday Booty.
Yesterday was a normal day, except for the fact that I inexplicably woke up too early and my hair looked fantastic. I worked a long ass day and came home with just enough time to be sung to over the phone by the parentals, before my guests arrived. I decided against an obligatory dinner out with friends and instead chose to have a few girl friends over for a craft night. An apron-making party. (If you've never heard of this, it's because it's not a thing. But I do highly recommend it). They brought me flowers and wine, I provided them with cute fabric and a pattern. We went to work in my kitchen. We worked and worked until it was suddenly 10:30 pm, we hadn't even started the sewing yet, and I had obligations to attend to. I shooed them out of my house with promises of finishing later this week and made a mad dash to Financial Frank's.
When you show up at a guy's house at 11 pm, you're there for one thing and you both know it. He however, was still watching the Bachelorette with his roommate (he lives with 3 girls, 3 hot girls). I sat down with them and in 15 minutes I was sucked in and calling all men douchebags (Don't even get me started on Bentley!). Frank was pleased that I could bond with his roommate via men-bashing, but also impressed that I think girls are idiots too (Honestly Ashley, you knew him for a week, stop crying already!). We eventually got back to his room where he made all my birthday wishes come true. Seriously, that was the one thing I wanted for my birthday and what I wanted from Financial Frank. A booty call. It's not slutty because it's my birthday. Obviously. And at least this year I won't be crippled with a hangover the next morning (although I did briefly fall asleep at work today, I had a really late night).
So here's to being 26. May it be a year full of great hair days, fabulous crafty friends, and enough sober booty to go around.
Showing posts with label birthday booty. Show all posts
Showing posts with label birthday booty. Show all posts
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
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, July 2, 2010
(Lack of) Birthday Booty
I know I haven't blogged in awhile. It's just been a bit quiet here in London town. I foresee a dry spell in Fen's love life coming up...
Which could not come at a worse time. For in a few weeks it will be my birthday (24 if anyone is curious. I've been told 24 is a good year so I'm pretty excited). However, Grayer has recently brought up the issue of Birthday Booty. A novel concept to me considering my previous 5 birthdays went as follows:
23rd birthday: was very hungover, had lunch with my parents, brother and his girlfriend's family. Not my choice.
22nd: spent in Peru (had lunch with Vi!) Fergus cancelled our plans because a girl got stabbed in Belize (long story).
21st birthday: spent in Italy being an au pair type for an Italian family, no hot Italian men around
20th birthday: two days before my grandad's funeral
19th birthday: my brother went into hospital with a collapsed lung.
What do all of the above have in common? No birthday booty. And possibly a bit of a birthday curse? It would be nice to get my 24th year off to a good start but I've no prospects so I don't think it's going to happen. So Vi and Grayer have said that I should just get drunk. Except my birthday is on a Monday this year so it would have to be the Friday before. I wasn't sure if that would count.
According to Vi, it counts.
Which could not come at a worse time. For in a few weeks it will be my birthday (24 if anyone is curious. I've been told 24 is a good year so I'm pretty excited). However, Grayer has recently brought up the issue of Birthday Booty. A novel concept to me considering my previous 5 birthdays went as follows:
23rd birthday: was very hungover, had lunch with my parents, brother and his girlfriend's family. Not my choice.
22nd: spent in Peru (had lunch with Vi!) Fergus cancelled our plans because a girl got stabbed in Belize (long story).
21st birthday: spent in Italy being an au pair type for an Italian family, no hot Italian men around
20th birthday: two days before my grandad's funeral
19th birthday: my brother went into hospital with a collapsed lung.
What do all of the above have in common? No birthday booty. And possibly a bit of a birthday curse? It would be nice to get my 24th year off to a good start but I've no prospects so I don't think it's going to happen. So Vi and Grayer have said that I should just get drunk. Except my birthday is on a Monday this year so it would have to be the Friday before. I wasn't sure if that would count.
According to Vi, it counts.
Monday, June 7, 2010
Birthday Booty
Now that I'm old (25! eeeek!) I have a few things to blog about, please do your best to follow along.
1. My secret affair with The Roommate has ended. He texted me at the end of last week, saying he just couldn't take the guilt/awkward situations with his roommate/my former fling, The Karaoke Kid. Obviously the situation was complicated so this is for the best. KK did not find out (as far as I know) but claims he doesn't know why I just stopped talking to him. (Seriously someone needs to teach this guy how to date a girl!). To be honest I was disappointed to no longer see The Roommate (I was just making out with him 2 days previous!). We talked about all being friends in the future but he said he just needed some time before that could happen. Why does he need time?! I feel like I could just be friends with him...as long as I'm not left alone with him....The Roommate also said I need to talk The Karaoke Kid about just being friends. The problem is KK hasn't talked to me in a while and when I tried to start a conversation with him via text, he never responded. I don't really know where I stand with either of them now, which is disappointing because they were my progress in making friends in Boston. Look where it got me! Nowhere. Fine, I'll say it: You were right. But I'll also say: It was fun while it lasted.
2. Obviously nobody wants to have things end right before their birthday, especially when all one really wants to do for their birthday is A. get birthday drunk, and B. get birthday laid. Fortunately, I don't need a man to get my drink on, yet my prospects of Birthday booty were not looking good. If this blog (Fen) has taught us anything, it's that nothing is more dangerous then a lethal combination of wine, an erotic charge (that's smart people talk for horny), and a cell phone full of numbers. After assessing myself as a High threat risk (That's color orange, people!) I needed to take some preventative measures. I've learned something in my 25 years. I deleted The Roommate's phone number before going out. I would have been embarrassed after begging him to come home with me. I also warned my roommie not to let me text and she certainly held me to it. I got yelled at everytime I had my phone out, when all I was doing was texting Violet (who was prodding me to say something TFLN worthy).
3. So if you're following along, I am drunk and manless on my birthday. However, I had a really good night out, which included delicious dessert, a whole lot of wine, and a few friends, including The Mutual Friend. For those of you who need a refresher, The Mutual Friend has been my strictly platonic friend for over a year now. He's a good friend of my old hookup, Hanging Out Guy, and he too has relocated to Boston. Everytime I've hung out with MF I have to insist to my roommie, that he is in fact, just a friend. We get along really well, have great chemistry, are very flirtatious, but by no means do we have any interest in each other. On numerous occasions I've had to tell my roommie, very matter-of-factly, "He is just a friend, it is possible to be friends with someone without sleeping with them, ya know." Until it's your birthday and you're drunk and manless that is...
I'm not really sure how this happened. Sure, I flirted with him and texted Violet that I was going to marry him, but these are all normal things! I don't know how many glasses deep we were but my wine and his rum and cokes were taking effect. Our knees were touching under the table, he was holding my hand to lead me through a crowd, he was coming home with me on the basis that we were going to have a Disney movie marathon the next day, and then he was making out with me in my kitchen. At some points I started giggling, partly because I was drunk, partly because he is sooo skinny, but mostly because it was The Mutual Friend. WTF? It's not like we haven't been drunk together before. No, it wasn't awkward the next morning, yes, I will continue to be friends with him, and yes, I had a great birthday...
I realize that I keep getting myself into these situations, but in my defense (this time at least) it was my birthday. We all deserve to be Birthday drunk, we all have the right to Birthday booty. Even if he is just a friend.
1. My secret affair with The Roommate has ended. He texted me at the end of last week, saying he just couldn't take the guilt/awkward situations with his roommate/my former fling, The Karaoke Kid. Obviously the situation was complicated so this is for the best. KK did not find out (as far as I know) but claims he doesn't know why I just stopped talking to him. (Seriously someone needs to teach this guy how to date a girl!). To be honest I was disappointed to no longer see The Roommate (I was just making out with him 2 days previous!). We talked about all being friends in the future but he said he just needed some time before that could happen. Why does he need time?! I feel like I could just be friends with him...as long as I'm not left alone with him....The Roommate also said I need to talk The Karaoke Kid about just being friends. The problem is KK hasn't talked to me in a while and when I tried to start a conversation with him via text, he never responded. I don't really know where I stand with either of them now, which is disappointing because they were my progress in making friends in Boston. Look where it got me! Nowhere. Fine, I'll say it: You were right. But I'll also say: It was fun while it lasted.
2. Obviously nobody wants to have things end right before their birthday, especially when all one really wants to do for their birthday is A. get birthday drunk, and B. get birthday laid. Fortunately, I don't need a man to get my drink on, yet my prospects of Birthday booty were not looking good. If this blog (Fen) has taught us anything, it's that nothing is more dangerous then a lethal combination of wine, an erotic charge (that's smart people talk for horny), and a cell phone full of numbers. After assessing myself as a High threat risk (That's color orange, people!) I needed to take some preventative measures. I've learned something in my 25 years. I deleted The Roommate's phone number before going out. I would have been embarrassed after begging him to come home with me. I also warned my roommie not to let me text and she certainly held me to it. I got yelled at everytime I had my phone out, when all I was doing was texting Violet (who was prodding me to say something TFLN worthy).
3. So if you're following along, I am drunk and manless on my birthday. However, I had a really good night out, which included delicious dessert, a whole lot of wine, and a few friends, including The Mutual Friend. For those of you who need a refresher, The Mutual Friend has been my strictly platonic friend for over a year now. He's a good friend of my old hookup, Hanging Out Guy, and he too has relocated to Boston. Everytime I've hung out with MF I have to insist to my roommie, that he is in fact, just a friend. We get along really well, have great chemistry, are very flirtatious, but by no means do we have any interest in each other. On numerous occasions I've had to tell my roommie, very matter-of-factly, "He is just a friend, it is possible to be friends with someone without sleeping with them, ya know." Until it's your birthday and you're drunk and manless that is...
I'm not really sure how this happened. Sure, I flirted with him and texted Violet that I was going to marry him, but these are all normal things! I don't know how many glasses deep we were but my wine and his rum and cokes were taking effect. Our knees were touching under the table, he was holding my hand to lead me through a crowd, he was coming home with me on the basis that we were going to have a Disney movie marathon the next day, and then he was making out with me in my kitchen. At some points I started giggling, partly because I was drunk, partly because he is sooo skinny, but mostly because it was The Mutual Friend. WTF? It's not like we haven't been drunk together before. No, it wasn't awkward the next morning, yes, I will continue to be friends with him, and yes, I had a great birthday...
I realize that I keep getting myself into these situations, but in my defense (this time at least) it was my birthday. We all deserve to be Birthday drunk, we all have the right to Birthday booty. Even if he is just a friend.
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