Take me home, country road

My version of snowboarding.  

I've returned from my "spring break" trip to Montana, visiting my best friend Greenley, her man, and her dog (my favorite pup in the whole wide world).  It was the first time I've seen them in a year, and needless to say, we made a scene at the airport.  Greenley and I are not meant to be apart.

Montana is gorgeous.  The mountains.  The wildlife.  The cute mountain lodgey buildings.  The snow.  The high male to female ratio.  What the what?  Greenley, why didn't you tell me that before? I would have visited months ago!

It's true, in the picturesque town in which they live, there are far more men than there are women.  And the women that do live there are already taken.  And you have to factor is the male tourists who always seem to be coming through town. Finally, a state I can get on board with! Men's men, with beards and outdoorsy scents.  I should have made it a longer trip.

Perhaps my new life plan will be to move to Montana and attract mountain men and tourists alike with my natural pheromones.  I'll go snowshoeing a lot because I'm outdoorsy and awesome and hopefully large wild animals will not be attracted to my natural pheromones because my natural pheromones are pretty potent.  I'll buy mace, just in case.  I'll drink beer, Montana men are good at drinking beer and so am I.   Since two-year-olds can ski in Montana, I best be learning how.  I can already snowboard with the best of them.  Unless the best of them can actually make it down mountains without falling every 20 feet in which case I can't snowboard with the best of them at all.  Also, I can't turn left.  I can hardly even go straight.  On a snowboard that is.   So really I just need to find a 20 foot run that veers to the right and isn't very steep and I'll be golden.  If I do fall, I'll blame in on the altitude, then I'll go drink beers in the lodge.  I'll find snowpants that really accentuate my curves.  Yeah, that's totally possible.  These Montana mountain men won't stand a chance.

Just dig it

For the past several weeks I've played in an indoor volleyball league.  I joined this league for one reason (aside from actually wanting to play volleyball): to meet boys, duh.  Boys like volleyball, I like boys and am good at volleyball, surely something will come of this.  I signed up as an individual and was put on a team, a team which I expected to be half made up of boys.  There were two boys on our team.  Both shorter than me.  Both suck at volleyball.  Ugh.  I set my eyes on our opponents.

Every Sunday for the past month and a half I've had my eyes on the opponents.  Where were all the cute boys?!  Why is it so hard to find a cute boy who has a reliable serve and a decent vertical?  One that's aggressive at the net yet not a ball hog?! One who thinks sporty girls are sexy?! Why can't he have a beard and cute smile, a job and a sense of humor?  Where is he?! Oh, there he is, on the pink team.  Of course we didn't play the pink team until our second to last game.  But oh how glorious that game was.  The pink team was primarily made up of decent looking guys, who are all good at volleyball, who were by far the nicest and most fun team we had played all season.  I was smitten.  I loved the team, but mostly I loved the cute bearded guy.  There was just something about him,  I just wanted to...get him alone.  I was feeling some chemistry between us while both up at the net on our respective sides, so I decided to make conversation.  Cue most random awkward comment.
Me:  Are you guys related?
Him: Which ones?
Me: All of you? (In my defense, they were all around the same height, had similar build and coloring and plus, they were all wearing pink!).
He gives me an adorable puzzled smile.  Then clearly makes up a story of how actually those two are brothers through some sort of insane incest that I couldn't really follow because he's so pretty.  As if an explanation he adds, "they're from the Midwest" right as a ball drops and he playfully accuses me of distracting him (Dude, I'm from the Midwest).  Luckily the game got kind of serious because my next question would have been, "Is anyone in your family taller because I'm a little concerned that our future children might be short."

My team lost, but it wasn't because I was trying to hit on the other team, we really just suck.   Over the course of the week I decided I would ask him out and came up with a plan.   I was going to try get the guys on his team to join forces with the two good girls on mine for next season, and in the meantime ask him out to drinks.  I got my girls to agree to it.  My evil plan was working.  Until it didn't.  At all.

They played before us, so when they were done and only three people on my team were present, I invited them to play with us.  Perfect.  I casually discussed next season with them while figuring out how they know each other (they grew up together outside of Boston, so they're practically related) and throwing in random unfiltered thoughts, "I've had Ghetto Superstar stuck in my head all day."  (Good one, Grayer, good one.  Though it did make the cute one laugh (sense of humor: check!).  On a sidenote: I think I'm becoming a socially awkward scientist).   Things were going swimmingly until the rest of my stupid team showed up, at which point they were no longer needed and headed out, before I was able to seal the deal.  They high-fived me goodbye and I watched them wistfully leave the gym while I had to play the stupid game. I wouldn't be there next week for the final game.  I was watching my future husband/father of my vertically-challenged children, walk away.  What was I supposed to do, leave my game to run after him and ask him out for drinks?  That's pathetic.  I played the rest of the game pissed off.  My serving got better.

My one shining hope was that playoffs would be next week and although I'd be on vacation, my two girls would be there.  I had dinner with them after the game and drilled into their head their single objective of next week.  Seal the deal with the pink team, by using all means necessary, preferentially means of giving the cute one my number.  There.  It was in their hands now.  Until it wasn't.  At all.

My team sucked.  We didn't make the playoffs.  The pink team did but my girls wouldn't be there to seal the deal or give him my number.  It seems as though as quickly as he came in, the cute bearded boy is gone from my life.  Goodbye, my almost lover (and by almost lover I mean I did know exactly three things about you, one of which was your first name, yet I find that completely substantial criteria to become lovers).  Insert: Sad face.

All I can do now is move forward.  It's time to mend this broken heart.  I'm currently trying to stuff a week's worth of clothing into a carry-on sized suitcase.  This would be a breeze if I were going someplace warm.  That's what sane people do.  They go warm places in March.  I'm not sane.  I'm going to Montana.  The weird thing is, I can't freakin' wait.  It's been a hard winter for me in Boston but now I'm actually excited to frolic in the snow with my two best friends, one of which is currently living there.  I have exactly two goals for this trip: 1. Learn to snowboard and 2. make out with a ski/snowboard instructor.  Not necessarily in that order.

Social exhaustion

I had the most social weekend I've ever had in my life. I am exhausted.

On Friday, I had a date with the Karaoke Kid. I hardly had enough time to blog and take the shine off my face after work when he came to pick me. (When I told my roommate my plans she asked "Are you guys going to do it?" I replied, "No, I'm not showering.") It was a nice night so we decided to walk to the Square, 2 subway stops away. This turned out to be quite a marathon and he was getting nervous about it taking so long. Cute. 45 minutes later we arrive at the place he picked. A mexican restaurant with a long wait. Apparently he tried calling ahead but they don't take reservations. Cute. Since we could be seated right away if we sat outside, we went for it. We ate outside. At night. In April. In Boston. And I had a great time. The conversation was good, as were the margaritas. We went back to his place for a couple beers and sat around with his roommate. It made me realize how much a missed hanging out with boys. I love boys. The Karaoke Kid walked me home very late, I had to get up early after all, but I will be sure to see him again.

On Saturday I had to head back to school for a conference. After spending the day with some friends up there, I settled in for a evening with Conrad. Obviously, it was awesome of me to pick a new guy over him the night before, but I still wanted to hang out. It was strictly platonic and I even told him about the Karaoke kid (kind of). Hooray! We are no longer imaginarily exclusive! Hooray!

I left Conrad's on Sunday afternoon to meet The Wedding Singer for lunch. Sorry I forgot to announce this, but last week I decided to join OkCupid. I figured it was about time I actually tried to meet people, and figured I should do it while I have a reason to do it (i.e. I just moved here). I started talking to The Wedding Singer on Thursday and made plans to meet with him that night. He was seriously making me laugh out loud via messaging so I figured he deserved a shot. I had a nice lunch with him. He was very very interested in what I did for a living ("Seriously, will you come into my work and just talk about your work?") and also talked my ear off about his job and music career. It's cool that he's a wedding singer (among other things) but honestly, how long do we need to talk about your band, the history of your band, the drama in your band, etc., etc. All in all, he seems like a good, fun guy who would be cool to have as a friend (and handy as well, he teaches guitar lessons, my '09 resolution could come true afterall!), however, I was in no way attracted to him. I was getting a little bored with all the band business and I had plans for my final date of the weekend.

This "stop calling it a date" date was with the Mutual friend, who I haven't seen in two months or so. He has been living in Boston as well and I think there is one reason why I haven't seen him: his newish girlfriend (who he admits is time to end things with). Anyhow, we got food, got beer, went back to my place, talked, played trivia games, reminisced, etc., etc. Basically hung out for hours. I had a great evening, as he is great fun. And because the Mutual Friend is the one boy that will always only be strictly platonic with, it wasn't even awkward when he pulled a pair of underwear out of my overflowing drawer to make fun of my disastrous room ("Oh, I like these!). Nor was it awkward when my slut of a roommate started having loud sex at 9 pm while we sat in my living room, trying to hold a conversation (oh, roommates). He actually made the situation quite amusing. I love that kid. I love boys. And I didn't realize how much I missed them until this weekend.

I'd take the brother

Yesterday, on a beautiful Friday afternoon I sat through a typical lab meeting.
Instead of my mind wandering to being outside, or of my evening plans with HOG, my attention was completely captivated by the fine specimen sitting at the head of the conference table. Talk about eye candy. Think Emmett Cullen, minus the curls, and this is exactly what you get, (and yes hotter than the one in the movie). Dark complexion, brown eyes, dimples, personality and don't forget the body. Yum.

As I was staring at him (and might I mention that he kept making eye contact with me and smiling) there were a couple of things I tried to keep in mind.

1. Emmett is an undergrad in my lab, my undergrad to be exact, and therefore I am his superior.
2. He looks extremely good in dress clothes
3. Not only is he a sophomore in college, but he's a sophomore frat boy, who's not yet 21.
4. I vividly remember seeing him without his shirt on when we played water polo. And it was good.
5. He usually smells like he needs to reapply some deodorant.
6. With body odor in mind, I think it would be perfectly acceptable to hire him over the summer to do yardwork, while I sat and watched from the safety of the deck.

Ok, so it would be somewhat inappropriate to have relations with this guy. And yes, when I was a senior in college, he was a senior in high school. And no he can't even buy me a drink.

Though in my defense, my ex-imaginary boyfriend was also my undergrad/frat boy and that wasn't inappropriate. And ok, he was my age and there was a lot of fuckwittage in the end, but when it was good, it was gooooood (and totally worth it).

So forgive me for wanting to have some fun while I'm young. A girl has needs. It really won't be too much longer before I'll just be a creepy cougar hiring 20-year-olds to do lawnwork.

So I'll just keep thinking about making out with him, and the very large hole I may need dug for no apparent reason in my backyard. I blame the heat. I makes me so....delirious..

(And yes, Hanging Out Guy is good, thanks for asking).

It's raining men

Mmmm..Boys

We here at WWBD? may bash them for extreme examples of fuckwittage, describing them as egotistical commitment phobes who break our hearts without even realizing they hold them in their hands. But do not let us fool you, for we absolutely love them (or do we love to hate them?). I admit I am the worst offender of this child's play, but as a group I just cannot get enough. I'm talking Love them, Love them. All of them. I'm as boy crazy as a prepubescent girl just noticing that minus the acne and braces, boys are pretty much amazing. And oddly enough, I just keep getting worse.

Perhaps this is due to the discoveries I make as I get older. With my gained knowledge and wisdom, their previously assumed prevertedness and immaturity can now be appreciated as witty innuendos and fun-loving antics. This, however, is not because they have gotten older or more mature, as one might assume. Just look at my recent infatuation with an 18 year old summer intern (a crush I did not act upon might I add).

For me, sense of humor is a huge turn on, and boys are downright hilarious. They will do anything for a good laugh and I absolutely love it. This includes getting 14 of their friends to dress in identical penguin costumes and barhop on Halloween, just because it's funny (Insert: mental image of 15 penguins waddling around a downtown area before hitting the dance floor). Or putting office supplies in a Jell-O mold (a la my one true love, Jim Halpert).

I am not a shallow person, but let's be honest, looks are a huge factor of my boy-craze. As I am still around a college campus, a haven for cute, albeit young boys, I am constantly surrounded by a surplus of hotness. This is where I decide if I like teaching a class or not by the number of cute students. Where being caught up in the men's summer cross country practice can be seen as nothing less than a gift from God. Nowhere else can attractive young men be found in such quantity and naiveness. Crushes on said students and athletes are frequent and always fun, giving me a reason to try to look nice on an early Monday morning.

Aside from the fuckwits, guys really are just good people. They have this innate protective quality, stemming either from birth or their mother's nagging, that leads them to be almost chivalrous. Even just male friends have a somewhat gallant attitude that I love. For clarification, I in no way am dependent on boys or in need of a protector. But having a boy around to walk with you in a dark alley, or help you up when you trip and fall, is not being dependent, it's just utterly convenient and smart. Without all the drama and bitchiness of a female friend, and the occasional snoggability, guys are my preferred sex for friendship (aside from my girl besties).

I may be completely boy-crazed, loving to look, talk, flirt and makeout with them, but in no way do I feel I need to date them. We may complain of being seemingly serious singletons, but don't forget, single stands for free to mingle. So while our friends get married, let's make the most of it, and go home with one of the groomsmen. While they start having babies, let's be thankful we still have the money/time/body to meet sex gods at the bar. Hopefully it won't last forever, but let's enjoy the flirtations before the inevitable jealous boyfriend is around stop it.