The case of the crazy cat lady

“Grayer, can I ask you a question?” says The Roommate, as we climb into bed the other night.

We had just changed my sheets because for the first time ever, Mr. Kitty Meowington threw up on my bed.  This is what I get for bringing a boy home on a week night.

“Are you making a cat Christmas stocking?”

He also had to pick up Mr. Meowington from his cat condo to hand him to me.  Mr. Meowington is not permitted to sleep in my room when I have guests.

“What? No. What do you think I’m some sort crazy cat lady?”

I was starting to regret wearing the black cat winter hat, that Violet got me for Christmas, on our walk to my house.

“Well, I saw a cat stocking and your desk looks like you’ve been...crafting..”

He had to step over the hot glue gun that I had left on the floor, right next to my staple gun and fabric, to get to my bed.

“Oh, that cat stocking.  My mom got me that because I left my real stocking here.  And yeah, I was crafting the other night.”

I totally drunkenly bragged about my brand new sewing machine that I had gotten for Christmas when I saw him on New Year’s.

“What’d you make?”

Not a cat Christmas stocking, because Mr. Meowington already has a Christmas stocking, duh.  I made it for him years ago.

“I was revamping Mr. Meowington’s scratching post, I made it for him when I was in college, it needed a makeover...........I sound really lame, don’t I?”

Despite my lameness, he moved in to kiss me as Mr. Meowington meowed outside my door.

“Yep.”

And then we stopped talking. 

I had run into him that night at a show.  Some of my friends and I were out to see a couple bands play, I knew one of the bassists.  The reason why I knew one of the bassists is because he’s the third roommate of The Roommate and the Karaoke Kid.  Luckily, KK had stayed home and after my (superlame) friends left, I stayed to hang out with The Roommate and the band.  Apparently, after our New Year’s Eve shenanigans, the Karaoke Kid never said anything about it.  This indicated to The Roommate that KK was ok with it, which apparently made it ok for him to come home with me.  So yeah, I guess we're a thing again (assuming my cat craziness hasn't scared him away).  It's January, I need a thing.

Boston on my mind

I've been living in Boston for 4 months now. If there is one thing I've noticed in Boston, it's that everyone, and I am talking everyone, is part of a couple. Therefore, I'm starting a club. A Single Ladies club. Current enrollment: 2. (Ha! And you thought it would be one!).

That's right, I've made a single girl friend. We met at a 4th of July BBQ. I scored her number. We met up for drinks. And yesterday our relationship moved up to the next level, when after hanging out all day, I brought her to a work guy's BBQ. That's right I had a plus one. I never have a plus one!

With her being new in town as well, we've been noting a general fact: As an adult, it's difficult to make friends. We're not playing double dutch at recess, we're not sharing gossip on the volleyball bus, and were not pregaming in our dorm rooms. Making friends as an adult is a whole new ball game. Especially in Boston, where everyone is cold, clique-y, and coupled.

Cold, clique-y and coupledness also makes it difficult to date, which is another thing my Single Ladies club has agreed upon. Even my new hair dresser concurs. "Everyone in Boston is either a couple or a miserable asshole." Grrrreat. She also claimed she had read somewhere that Boston was supposed to one of the worst cities for dating. To which I said, WHHHHAAAAT?!?! Before I started packing up my shit to get the hell out of this city, I decided to do some research. Luckily, I found no truth to the claim, which is good because I really didn't want to have to quit my job. Actually, in 2008, Forbes named Boston the 7th best city in the U.S. for singles (but perhaps in the past 2 years everyone has coupled up?). What was the best/where should you move next? Atlanta, the home of our very own, Violet J. Bickerstaff. So that's why they call it "Hotlanta".

P.S. Violet hates when they call it Hotlanta.

Cheese and Wine

Oh WWBD? it's been too long. Things have actually been happening to me, not romantically happening, but ya know... happening. Gotta to start somewhere:

Today was the beginning of my third week at the new job. Things have been going well except for the fact that 1) I have had to come to terms with officially being an adult and 2) it's not just that everyone is in a relationship (like it was in grad school), now it's that everyone is married. Since I was drawn to the one single person in my department at my old job (Conrad), I'm just waiting for the inexplicable magnetic pull of the one single male at my new job. This company employs 21,000 people, surely there are a few single males in there...right??

Today is my second day in my new apartment in the city. I'm feeling somewhat of a crazy catlady. The only furniture I have so far is my bed, my roommates won't move in for another two weeks, and other than the occasional phone call from Violet or the parentals, the only conversation I've held are those with my cat. To add to the crazy, while trying to scrounge something for dinner (I haven't yet found the nearest grocery store that isn't too expensive/Whole Foods) I realized I have hardly anything in my fridge, yet I do have six types of cheese. Six! Surely this is not my best moment, but given that I've been eating dinner on the floor, using a box as a table, I assume this can be forgiven.

Today is the fourth day since I've seen Conrad. We hung out on Friday for the final time before I moved. It's a weird feeling closing the door on someone you may never see again. Then again, he might be helping me finish move this weekend. I've only moved an hour away, but that hour may be more than our weird relationship can handle. On Saturday night I decided to kill a bottle of wine while packing. I had to drink the wine, as surely I was not going to transport it across state lines, however, this was not my best plan. For starters, getting drunk while texting Conrad about my insecurities about the future of friendship was one thing, getting drunk while packing glassware was another. He assured me we'll see each other again, he promises he'll come down to visit and tells me I need to trust him. The mugs of wine (I packed my wine glasses) were downed at an amazing rate as these comments hit home. Conrad was shockingly reminding me of my ex-imaginary boyfriend (the one that moved and completely cut me off/broke my heart). I swear they used the same lines. I've been disappointed before and refuse to get my hopes up. I know how things go, I'm a realist, and I know one thing: If a guy really wants to see you, he'll see you. HJNTIY taught me that. If he doesn't care to see me much when I'm 15 minutes away, why would he when I'm an hour away? Saying goodbye to him wasn't sad because I'll miss my strange unhealthy imaginary relationship (Ok, I will miss the action). No. It was sad because really, Conrad has been my closest/geographically desirable friend the past couple months. I'll miss our friendship more than anything, as was the case with the ex-IB. Also, I have an awful record of remaining friends with guys I've had relations with (why is that?). I'm hoping this one will be different.

I'm sure he'll never come to visit, but I just keep thinking of all the things we can do in the city together (hello, science museum!!) I can't help but hope. I also can't help but hope I'll meet someone new soon so as to not even remember Conrad's name. Until then, I'll be sitting on my bed with a cat in my lap, nibbling on cheese and figuring out what craft I can make with broken wineglasses. City life is so classy.

Dating Etiquette

I’ve been dating The Engineer for about a month now and things seem to be going well. I admit that I had a brief commitment phobic setback last week following an uncomfortable conversation in which he asked me about my past relationships. I changed the subject…while I don’t really have anything to hide, I wasn’t prepared to have that conversation yet and especially not in a public place. When we do have that conversation I will have to admit that, while I have dated, I’ve never been in a serious relationship. I feel this is a bit out of the norm for a girl in her mid-twenties and I’m somewhat self-conscious about it. Is it possible for the lack of relationship baggage to be just as weighty? Afterward, I found myself questioning whether I’m really into him or if my interest is partly related to my three year drought. I have since recovered from this setback and decided that it was likely more related to my fear of entering into unknown territory than my interest in The Engineer.

As part of the same conversation The Engineer very hesitantly and awkwardly asked me if I was bothered by our age difference. (He is about four years older than me.) Considering that I knew his age before I met him, I thought the answer was kind of obvious but I assuaged his concerns. As a result of this conversation, I learned that his birthday is this month. Which of course raises the question, do I get him a gift? If so what is an appropriate gift to give someone you have only been dating a month? What would Bridget do? I was thinking about getting him a movie that we talked about and we both want to see. I would welcome any advice.

My name is Grayer..and I'm a closet commitment phobe

Be prepared, I'm going deep on this one.

I've recently been advised, by the great ladies of WWBD?, to figure out where my hanging out relationship is going exactly. Hanging Out Guy grows on me every time I see him, but to have an actual conversation about what this thing we're doing is? Ugh. That sounds awful. The problem is, is that I'm not ready for that type of commitment. (Yes, I do realize that I often have the emotions of a man). I'm not ready to stop seeing him, but I'm definitely not ready to call him my boyfriend. Therefore, I would have no answer for him. And seeing that an Imaginary Boyfriend (what this is quickly turning into) is the worse scenario possible, I feel I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place.

I can think of many excuses as to why I'm ok with where we are right now, but that's just what they are: excuses. In reality, it comes down to one thing, just like it has every in any other pseudo-relationship: poor timing. Every time I've ever met someone worth my time, there has always been a looming change, usually in the form of a move, in the near future. So from the very beginning I have known or at least I have planned, that these relationships weren't going anywhere. Why fully invest yourself into something with no future? It's happening all over again with Hanging Out Guy as I will definitely be graduating and most likely be moving within this calendar year.

So the question is, why does this always happen to me? Is it karma? We all know karma is a bitch, and let's face it, I've done some shit. Is karma preventing me from meeting a guy when I actually have time to invest into a guy? Or is it me? Do I only allow myself to be emotionally available when I know nothing can come out of it? Am I... a closet commitment-phobe?

I may be getting ahead of myself with this particular case, but historically speaking, there is strong evidence for this correlation. It would explain a lot. In my defense, admitting you have a problem is the first step. I wonder if there's a support group for this sort of thing...

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.

But I still think Cole Hamels is hot...

I just finished watching the World Series. In the top of the 7th, Tampa Bay outfielder Rocco Baldelli hit a home run, and the following words actually came out of my mouth: "He didn't even extend his hands, and he still managed to hit it out."

I know a LOT about sports, particularly baseball. Even the most minute details. I can explain the infield fly rule (and have, to almost every guy I've dated), I have an opinion on the designated hitter rule (get rid of it, all players should play the whole game), and I listen to Mike and Mike In The Morning every morning on ESPNradio.

Don't get me wrong, I am still very much a girl. I enjoy wearing high heels and dresses, applying mascara, and I get weepy over The Notebook. But I would much rather go to the game than spend an afternoon shoe shopping. In fact, I think a baseball game is a really, really good date. So how am I still single?

Are men turned off by ESPN-watching women? And if so, why? Are they intimidated? Do they feel it threatens their manhood? At risk of sounding arrogant, shouldn't I be every man's dream? I'm no Scarlett Johansson, but I don't need to put a bag over my head when I leave the house, either. What gives?

I understand that part of my problem is my taste in men. Jocks aren't really my type, but then again, I don't think I'm their type either. Does one cause the other? Am I not their type because I'm more likely to be playing next to them rather than be one of the cheerleaders?

I should probably be asking men these questions (hmmm, maybe I'll email Mike and Mike...), so do me a favor and ask around.