Hi. My name is Violet...

Despite my reservations about Bachelor #6 (aka The Dropout), I agreed to go out to dinner with him this evening. Not that there was anything wrong with him. He just didn't excite me.

Over the weekend, he asked me if I liked to spend a lot of time on the weekends in bars. I told him no, and he said that was a good thing, as he doesn't drink at all. Apparently, he used to drink a bit much, so now he doesn't. I wasn't really sure what to think about that, but I figured lots of people drink in their youth, and good for him for growing up. But while we were walking through the neighborhood, licking ice cream cones, he says, "So I really need to tell you... I'm in AA, I'm a recovering alcoholic." Oh. Wow. I listened in what I believe was a very understanding manner while he told me about his alcohol- and drug- riddled past, but the entire time, I was thinking of that episode of Sex and the City, where Carrie starts dating an AA member, even though he wasn't supposed to get involved with anyone for awhile, and he replaces his alcohol addiction with a Carrie addiction, and he ends up outside her apartment screaming CARRIE! I was suddenly really glad I met him at the restaurant, instead of allowing him to pick me up. So when he asked me if I had any questions, I asked him about that. Apparently, he's in the clear, as he's been sober for two years now, and has been in a relationship since (with another AA member).

Now, I'm very happy for him that he's been clean for two years, finally finishing up school and is getting his life back on track. I admitted to him that I'm squeaky clean (to which he said "Good, that's what I'm looking for"), because really, I am. I've never smoked anything in my life, and I don't drink to get drunk. Boring? Maybe, but that's the way it is. If I were really into a guy, I'm sure I could look passed his sordid past, but The Dropout just isn't it. And yet, even though I knew this, when he gave me a kiss on the cheek, and told me that he would call me, I said, "Sure!" It just came out. Now I totally understand why men say "I'll call you" when they don't really mean it. It's just what you say at the end of the date. You know, like that episode of Friends (do I watch too much TV?) where Chandler tells Rachel's boss he'll call when he has no intention of calling.

And he will call. Thus far, he's called when he said he would call, and even when he didn't say he would call. Stay tuned to see how I get out of this one.

Playlist: I could just kill a man

In honor of recent fuckwittage, I propose a new playlist. What songs remind us not to wallow over him not calling, but to be pissed that he's idiot enough not to call. An angry Men-are-the-scum-of-the-earth playlist would just be lovely these days. Suggestions?

Getting back in the game...

I decided to be the bigger person and not email The Engineer. One of my friends said by not responding the ball stays in my court. I'm not really sure what I can do with this power at this point but I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he hurt me.

Now that it is too late I kind of regret not emailing The Engineer back. I know that it wouldn’t have changed anything but it was all so sudden and I feel like his email robbed me of complete closure. This is going to sound somewhat pathetic but, despite The Engineer being a complete fuckwit at the end, I still kind of miss him. Even if I wasn’t that into him I still really liked him and I had fun with him.

So now that The Engineer is out of the picture I’m back on match in search of a guy I’m not only compatible with but who I’m also attracted to. (By the way, I hate that I’m now comparing other guys to The Engineer.) Within a day or two receiving the email from The Engineer, I updated my profile and contacted a handful of guys. Of course only a couple replied. Here is a roll call of those in the running at the moment:

• The Accidental Date Guy – The weekend after things ended with The Engineer I was trying to make plans for the evening. I was talking to one of my guy friends from meetup group thinking that we were going to invite other people. It wasn’t until the last minute that I realized that he might not have been thinking the same thing. I asked him if I should see if other people wanted to join and he said “no I think we can handle this ;-)”. Crap!! So I went on the “date” and it was fun. However, he was moving out of town in a couple of days and a couple months later he will be moving out of the country for several years. (Plus, I hadn’t thoroughly facebook stalked him and my friend informed me later than he has a toddler.) He did call and text me the day after the date though.
• The German – I have been talking to this guy on match who lives near where I work. He seemed really interesting at first but some of his emails recent emails have been a little boring and his comments make me think that we might not be compatible. As English is not his first language and he seems interested in me, I’m going to give him the benefit of the doubt. I suggested meeting and he said he would like that and is free this week. He did lose points suggesting that we meet during the week so that I wouldn’t have to drive up on a weekend. (I commute to work.) Seriously? He could have at least pretended he was willing to meet me half way.
• The Country Boy – The guy contacted me on match. He fishes, hunts, watches Nascar, loves his pickup truck and makes his own furniture. He seems interesting and I’m not entirely opposed to the country boy type but Nascar and hunting definitely aren’t hot.

So here it goes again...dating is so exhausting...

100th Post!

My math may be shoddy (I was an English major, you know), but that last post was #99, making this #100. Thanks to our two readers, who really make this possible. Here's to another 100 posts of fuckwittage, bad dates, good dates, smug married complaints, singletonness, compilation mood playlists, and adventures in searching for a real life Jim Halpert. Mazel tov, ladies.

Don't Hate the Player, Hate the Game

Forgive me if I ramble, but I'm still in a bit of shock. As you know, I met Halpert last week, and it was kind of awesome. He sent me a "Have a great day" text on Tuesday, then called on Wednesday, which was also kind of awesome, and we made plans to go out on Friday. He asked if I had any other food aversions (I have a lot), so he would know what kind of place to take me to. He made me laugh, ne', giggle. Then he called me again Thursday afternoon, just because he knew I had several hours to kill between my classes. (I was bra shopping at the time, which I decided I shouldn't tell him; it may give him unrealistic expectations regarding our date.) Needless to say, I was really looking forward to our date on Friday.

Then on Friday, just as I was about to start getting ready, he called with bad news. Something came up, and he had to go baby-sit his 2-year-old niece. He sounded genuinely disappointed, and wanted to make a plan to reschedule right away. I figured this was probably a good sign, since he a.) actually called, as opposed to texting and b.) rescheduled right there on the phone. So while I was seriously disappointed, I couldn't really be made at him. I mean, he was baby-sitting his niece. That's kind of adorable.

This afternoon, I was talking to Scarlet while I waited for him to call and tell me what time he was going to pick me up, when I received a text message. It was from him.

I'm going to be honest...

Shit. Nothing, nothing NOTHING good can possibly come from these words, not after one date. It's The Kiss of Death and ranks right up there with "We need to talk." I didn't want to read on, but I did.

I just became serious with someone I've been dating, so I don't think it's fair that we see each other anymore. You're a great person, the timing just wasn't right.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuckity fuck. (Scarlet and I also noticed that, for two people who rarely swear in real life, we really let loose on this blog. That's what dating will do to you, I guess.) I was- and still am- seriously bumming, but as Scarlet pointed out, at least he told me this after one date, and not after seven weeks. But of course, the signs were there, I just chose to ignore them. Remember when he didn't call me for five days and Baltimore Dan told me to pick up the phone? And when he called to "postpone," he suggested Sunday as a make-up date, as opposed to Saturday. My guess is he and this other girl decided to become exclusive on Saturday night. So yes, the timing sucked. What if I had contacted him earlier? We were both aware of each other's existence for a few weeks before either of us made contact. And what if we had gone out again on Friday and I had been given a second chance to impress the pants off of him? (Not literally, of course, I'm not that kind of girl.) I realize that you're probably screaming at the computer screen right now that he was LYING, but I think that if he was indeed lying to me on Friday, that someone should call the Academy and get this man an Oscar. Yes, it is a possibility, in which case he is a complete and utter fuckwit. But if life mirrors Sex and the City (without the fabulous shoes) then I am a Charlotte, and I remain hopeful. And it's easier to do that when I think the stars just simply didn't align on this one.

At first, I decided I wasn't going to respond. But after cooling off a bit, I sent him a "thanks for the early heads up, good luck!" text. If nothing else, this will show him how cool I really am, and if things don't work out, he will be that much more likely to call me. Not that I will be sitting around waiting for the call.

But at least for today, you can find me eating Mint Chocolate Chip ice cream, listening to the S.A.D. playlist, and contemplating how the hell I'm going to get those stars to align.

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).

Sexfoliation

6p.m. Completely exhausted by entire day of date-preparation. Being a woman is worse than being a farmer- there is so much harvesting and crop spraying to be done: legs to be waxed, underarms shaved, eyebrows plucked, feet pumiced, skin exfoliated and moisturized, spots cleansed, roots dyed, eyelashes tinted, nails filed, cellulite massaged, stomach muscles exercised. The whole performance is so highly tuned you only need to neglect it for a few days for the whole thing to go to seed. Sometimes I wonder what I would be like if left to revert to nature-with a full beard and handlebar moustached on each shin, Dennis Healey eyebrows, face a graveyard of dead skin cells, spots erupting, long curly fingernails like Stuwwelpter, blind as bat and stupid runt of species as no contact lenses, flabby body flobbering around. Ugh, ugh. Is it any wonder girls have no confidence?

-Bridget Jones's Diary

This has got to be one of my favorite passages from BJD. It. is. so. true. The sexfoliation process is a brutal one. And why, oh why, do those spots seem to appear just in time for a date? Like clockwork, a spot erupted on my face, just in time for a critical date with Halpert. And I, like Bridget, have often wondered what I would be like if left to nature, most commonly when watching Lost. If I were stuck on an island (pre-time travel when they didn't have runing water), I would be scarier than the smoke monster. (Seriously producers, give Kate a pimple every now and then.) But, as there is 7 hours until said date, I have 7 hours to sexfoliate. Bring it on!