Happy Anna Shaw Howard Day

Even if you don't watch 30 Rock, you'll be sure to appreciate the greatest Valentine's day themed show of all time. Liz Lemon also refuses to celebrate a "a sham created by greeting card companies to reinforce gender stereotypes" and instead calls it Anna Shaw Howard Day ("the February 14th birthday of the famed American suffragette"). Somebody needs to teach this lady about Singles Awareness Day!

S.A.D. Poetry

In honor of the pink and red "holiday" upon us, I decided to do a poetry lesson with one of my classes today. (Also because I was too lazy to do anything else, and this is a standard lesson I've done several times. I used the "holiday" as an excuse.) While my students were plugging away, I penned a few of my own, in honor of us, and the men that have come in and out of our lives over the last year.

To not settling:

Roses are Red,
Grass is green,
Don't I deserve
To be treated like a Queen?

The Highlander:

Roses are Red,
Violets are blue,
You're so stupid,
You haven't got a clue.

The Dark Horse:

Violets are blue,
Roses are Red,
We would be better
If we just stayed in bed.

For Grayer and Conrad:

Roses are Red,
Funerals are black,
What you two have
Is really whack.

For Welsh Willy:

Roses are Red,
But some are pink,
For not calling Fen,
You really stink!

For Scarlet:

Roses are Red,
Lillies are white,
I'm only looking for
My very own knight.

I could go on and on and on...

Hell yes February!

Oh crap it's February? I think not, ladies. Nevermind that January is finally over and that spring is just around the corner. February is the month of groundhogs, the month of superbowls, the month of hot Olympic athletes, and the month of Singletons. That's right, Single's Awareness Day (if you didn't know you're single, you do now). If you're new with us at WWBD? you should know one thing. We do not celebrate Valentine's day, because we do not believe in Valentine's day. We do not need dinner plans. We do not need red fuzzy teddy bears that will gather dust. We do not need overpriced red roses that will die. We do not need candy that will go straight to our hips. We don't need anything because Valentine's day is not a holiday. (Please refer to previous arguments supporting this simple fact).

Please understand that we are not bitter Singletons. We have simply joined/started the revolution that is SAD and this belief has spanned many a men and many relationships. It's liberating to be a nonbeliever! It's not that we don't believe in love, we just don't believe you need a declared "holiday" to show love. It's not that we don't believe in romance, we just don't believe romance is defined by tacky gifts of the pink and red assortment. It's not that we don't believe in celebrations, hell yes we believe in celebration. Lucky for us, SAD falls on a Sunday of a 3-day weekend. While all those smug marrieds are out with the usual holiday rituals (What is so "romantic" about going out to dinner?) we will be out at the bar. Seriously, put on your dancing shoes because the clubs should be crawling with singles ready to mingle! Can you say snogfest?! It's a great time to be a Singleton!

So jam out with that playlist, join the cause and celebrate Single's Awareness Day (only let's learn from my mistakes last year).

I shaved my legs for THIS

Oh, action. Why did you ever leave me?

Last night, the Dark Horse said he would stop by to drop off a book that he had borrowed from me. Now, this was the first time I had heard from him since the "I shaved my legs for this" incident, which it will heretofore be known, and I had absolutely. no. idea. what to expect from this encounter. My expectations seriously ran the gamut from "Here's your book, thanks for letting me borrow it" to waking up next to each other sans clothing. I figured it would be somewhere in the middle. Instead, I got an extreme.

When he arrived, I honestly didn't think we would be waking up next to each other. Things weren't awkward, because I can't imagine them ever being awkward between us, but they were... polite? We set off to grab a slice of pizza around the corner. I should probably explain that I live right off a rather, shall we say, colorful? street. There are all sorts of interesting characters and plenty of homeless people always looking for money "for gas." I generally ignore them, but the Dark Horse is nothing if not friendly, and he likes to listen to their stories and engage in conversation. Which is exactly what he did with a flamingly gay man who approached us to ask for money, swearing that he wasn't a bum, and believing the Dark Horse when DH told him he was a doctor. The non-bum hadn't really noticed me, but when he did, he asked "is this your wife?" Then he looked me up and down, and even peered around me to check out my ass, and said in a way that only the truly flaming can pull off, "Girl, you have got it going ON! You are bootylicious!" Then somehow the conversation went from his living with AIDS for 15 years to my bootyliciousness.

Eventually, we shook the guy, but on our way from the pizza place to the bar, passed him again, where he yelled "BOOTYLICIOUS!" after me. Oh, city life. I wouldn't trade you for anything.

When we got to the bar, we ran into my (more than a little drunk) roommate and BFF and joined them. It was after they left that I knew I wouldn't be sleeping alone. I think it was when DH told me that I was indeed bootylicious and asked if I had shaved my legs that I knew. (I told him that I was going to keep that information to myself this time.) We went back to my place. He had said he was crashing on my couch (he was in no state to be driving), but who was he kidding? Technically, he made the first move, but I guess you could argue that I made the first move several weeks ago with my drunken speech, which he obviously took to heart and remembered, because he definitely came prepared, and several helpings of pistachio ice cream with cherries on top later, we were two happy campers.

But it was afterward that I impressed myself with my ice queeniness. First of all, I did not initiate any cuddling. Second, in the morning, when he asked what that was (seriously, does he need a definition?) my official stance on the situation was "It happens." I told him if it happens again, great, if not, ok. And that's how I actually feel about it, too. I mean, obviously I want it to happen again, and I definitely think it will, but there are other fish in the sea. Third, he sent the obligatory "I had fun last night" text message. And I haven't even responded yet. Fenella says this is ice queen nirvana. Now what do I strive for?

Why hello anger, I've been expecting you...

I had the disappointed stage.

I had the hurt stage.

Now I've hit anger.

We've all been there. We get interested in a guy, non-platonic things happen, we think this might lead somewhere and then...nothing.

I've never understood how people can do this to another person. If you're not interested in someone then please don't give them any non platonic indications that you are! It's really not difficult to understand.

What's so frustrating is that this has turned WW into the nicest guy I've met for a long time to a fuckwit. And that is disappointing. Now I feel that we can't even be friends, which I wanted. I said to Vi after the first time I met up with him that even if nothing more happened I would be happy just being friends. Now, if we were to meet up 'as friends' I'd just be looking at him the whole time thinking "you fuckwit, you."

Whew, that's the anger stage over and done with! The benefit of going through these stages when you haven't been in a relationship with the guy is that the stages occur so much quicker.

Looking at the positives: lots of compliments today on my outfit and hair. Retail therapy rocks!

He's Just Not That Into Me

I'm not stupid. I know how to read between the lines of text messages, or read between the lack of lines in the lack of a text message reply. Welsh Willy is just not that into me.

Am I disappointed? Yes.

Did I send Vi a depressing email? Yes.

Did I eat chocolate? Yes.

Did I turn to retail therapy? Yes.

Have I been over analysing the whole situation and wondering why he's just not that into me? But of course.

It's been awhile since I've found myself in the rejected corner. Not because I'm so great but because I've had a bit of a dry spell and I was the one who ended it with Fergus. It's been so long that I've forgotten just how much it sucks.

However, as disappointed as I am I'm also quite proud of myself. I've learned from past mistakes and experiences; most of which involved alcohol and technology. This time round I won't be going down that path:

I deleted all text messages from him.

I deleted his number.

I got Vi to change the password to my Facebook profile. Extreme? Perhaps. But I was spending way too much time on it anyways. I just hope she doesn't let all the power go to her head...

So I'm making progress.

Do I still feel lousy? Yes.

Do I still feel a teensy bit hopeful when my phone beeps with a text message? Unfortunately yes.

Am I going to go out for drinks tomorrow night with a positive outlook and show off the result of my retail therapy? Hell yes.

Afterall, as Vi said, if he's just not into me then he's just not right for me. and why would I want to be with someone who isn't right for me?

Slut Boot Camp

Over the weekend, Fenella and I were discussing one thing we would both like to change about ourselves: We wish we could be sluttier.

I won't speak entirely for Fen, but my frustration is not in my singleton status, so much as knowing that had I been willing, I could have had quite a bit of sex last year. But no, I have standards. Damn you, mom and dad and my moral upbringing!

These standards came back to bite me in the ass during my "I shaved my legs for this" declaration to the Dark Horse, (who by the way I have clearly scared off, as I haven't heard from him in a few weeks) insisting I was down for a hook-up even though we weren't together, and he responded with a confused look and a "but that's not who you are." Ok, so maybe that's not who I am, but it is certainly who I want to be. Help me out here. Throw me a bone.

You're probably wondering why on earth anyone would want to be sluttier when there are some people out there who turn to self-sabotage (not shaving their legs, for example) to stop from sleeping with random people. It's really quite simple. Being a prude will not get you laid. And sometimes, that is all you need.

Unfortunately, when the Dark Horse had asked me about sex, I told him I preferred to wait until an actual commitment. That's because I was actually interested in being in an actual commitment with him, and any dating expert (including the Millionaire Matchmaker) will tell you to wait for that. But now? I'm only human, for crying out loud!

So the question is, how do I channel my inner slut? I was fortunate enough to meet an incredibly hot Spanish doctor last weekend. Yes, that's right. Incredibly hot. Spanish. Doctor. It sounds like one of the romance novels I used to shelve at the library. He's only in town for two months. This is the perfect opportunity to work on my sluttiness! I have absolutely nothing to lose! "The Rules" don't apply as he is a. European and b. temporary. So please send me your sluttish vibes so that I may get the action I deserve.