The bearded wonder

Greetings from Costa Rica!

Vi and I just wanted to check in and let you know we having blast. More importantly, we wanted to let you know that in this time of damp clothes, unwashed hair, infrequent showering, and money belts, my perfect man has come in and out of my life. It's as if the Costa Rican gods plucked him up and put him on our boat, with big smile, good jokes, and a beard. Mother may I.

Stay tuned as our internet has a time limit, and a line has formed.

Belated Weekend Update

I'm a bit late on the Weekend Update, but Grayer and I are preparing for a tropical vacay, so you'll have to excuse me. On top of that, not only did I meet many of the cute neighbor's friends over the weekend, but I also had dinner with him and his dad last night.

First up: the weekend. The good news is, I didn't need nearly as much wine as I thought. I think it helped that two members of the group didn't show up until Saturday, so I had the first night with only three new people, all of which were very friendly. When the other two showed up, I was actually a bit happy to learn that one was a girlfriend, and didn't know anybody either. Turns out, she's even quieter than I am. All in all, it was nothing to stress out about, and I don't have too much to report.

The Cute Neighbor's dad is in town for work this week, so the cute neighbor asked if I wanted to join them for dinner last night. I accepted, and then took on the difficult task of figuring out what to wear when having dinner with your boyfriend and his father when it's 97 degrees outside. (I settled on sensible shorts and a polo.) You would think I would be just as nervous, if not more so to have dinner with the dad. Not so. As it so happens, I've already met his dad. Twice. I've met both his parents, and one of his brothers. Advantage of being just neighbors for awhile before an actual couple: meeting important people in no-pressure situations.

It's interesting though, to see other people interact with their parents. I wouldn't call Grayer's and my parents conservative, per se, but there are certain things we just don't discuss with them. (I mean, I did have Grayer tell my parents via family announcement about my actual boyfriend.) So it was interesting to see his dad use his "Position of the Day" book as a coaster for his beer (which my parents don't drink). I was even more amused when he looked at the book title and said, "Surely there can't be that many positions." To which the cute neighbor responded, "Some of them are physically impossible." This is a conversation that would never, EVER take place between me or Grayer and our parents.

Other than that, it was a completely casual, uneventful Dinner with the Dad.

But don't worry, Grayer and I will have plenty of shenanigans to report from the jungle. We promise.

One Year On

Today is exactly one year since Fergus and I broke up. It kind of took me by surprise that so much time has passed so quickly. It did make me feel a little depressed, after all, we did have a pretty serious relationship and at one point I did honestly think that he was the guy I would stay with for a very, very long time. However, rather than feel down and nostalgic I decided to focus on all the good things that have happened since we broke up, some of which may very well not have happened if we stayed together.

1. I passed my driving test. (Passing your driving test at 23 is a little pathetic but reversing round the corner is hard ok).

2. I got a job. A proper job. In the sector I wanted to work it.

3. I moved to London.

4. I visited Violet.

5. I have started dipping my toes in the vast pool that is dating.

And, most importantly...

6. My dry spell game to an end.

All in all? A very good year.

Solution, Thy Name is Alcohol!

The cute neighbor has been out of town all week at a conference. After the conference is over, a few of his friends decided to rent a cabin in the mountains for the weekend before going home. The cute neighbor asked me to come along awhile ago, which of course, I was very excited to hear, because it's always, always good news when a guy wants you to meet all his friends. At the same time, however, I was very, very nervous.

First of all, it's intimidating enough to meet The Friends. Especially several at once. And for some reason, when I meet new people in groups, I do one thing: clam up. I get quiet. I'm not my usual delightful self, but instead barely contribute to the conversation more than one word answers. I don't know why, but that's how I work. But don't worry, I have a solution for that this weekend, and it's name is alcohol. On my way home from work, I stopped at Trader Joe's and bought 6 bottles of two-buck chuck. Obviously, I don't think I'll need all 6 bottles, but I want to be able to offer it to others (can't be rude), and I'm sure the house beverage of choice will be beer, and I don't drink beer. Can't take any chances of being sober while everyone else is not. There is nothing fun about that.

Second, all of these people are PhDs. And until last Friday, I was a professional baby-sitter. I know that this doesn't really matter, and last week my roommate lectured me on how smart I am, and if I wanted a PhD I could have one, and what a great teacher I am, so don't worry about something silly like that. She's right, but it does up the imtimidation factor. Especially because their PhDs came from a top-notch school and they're now all professors or post-docs. Again, I was a professional baby-sitter.

Keep your fingers crossed, and I'll give you the rundown on Sunday or Monday!

I don't want to jinx anything!

I know I'm risking alienating everyone on this blog by making the following statement, but I don't have anything else to write about: It's difficult to get used to having an ACTUAL boyfriend.

Don't roll your eyes or throw tomatoes at your computer screen. It's just the facts. I've been single for a very, VERY long time. I realized the other day that I spent 4 years with the same boyfriend. Then I went 4 years WITHOUT one. Ouch. So no, the term "my boyfriend" doesn't really come rolling off my tongue. On the rare occasion when I have used it, I've thought, 'Wait, is that right? Am I getting ahead of myself?' and wonder if I should still just refer to him as "my neighbor."

It's also a completely different mindset. For a long time now, I've been on The Lookout for any single man with some potential. Now I'm not. I'm afraid I may have to remind myself of that, though. Last week, I was asked out by a new member of our softball team. I hope I wasn't giving out flirtatious vibes. I declined by telling him "The Cute Neighbor and I have plans on Thursday." That way, if he wasn't asking me out, I didn't embarrass myself by assuming that he was, but if he was asking me out, the name dropping should do the trick.

Of course, The Cute Neighbor is out of town this week. And I don't even have Eloise to take care of. It's feeling an awful lot like 2009 all over again...

Fever Pitch

Grayer and I are good Americans and don't really care about soccer. However, when it's World Cup time, I watch. Mostly because it's a major sporting event, and I like to be in the know. But I think we can all agree on one thing: Soccer players (or footballers if you're Fenella) are HOT. They are by far the hottest athletes on the planet. It is most definitely worth watching for the eye candy alone. And they take their shirts off at the end of the game. *pauses to wipe away the drool.* Here is just a sample of what you'll see if you tune in. And as Fen said, Forget the funny name, Bocanegra is fine. Just another reason to be chanting for USA! USA!

A Friday Night Epiphany

I had an epiphany on Friday night. It was a somewhat vodka fuelled epiphany but an epiphany nonetheless.

On Friday night I went for after work drinks with PWG. Even though we had the whole WTF? Friday night, we're still friends and you have drinks with your friends. Except the problem with me and PWG is that we're not really 'just friends'. Nor are we seeing each other. We're in a weird limbo where there's always some sort of tension bubbling beneath the surface but we don't act on it. This is not healthy. I decided to head home and asked him to walk me to the tube station. I've learnt my lesson with him, I have to ask to be walked to the station.

When I was on the tube I found myself to be crying for a reason I couldn't work out but knew it was in some way related to him. But the vodka can take a little bit of the blame. And then, my epiphany.

Posh Work Guy messes with my head. Badly.

He makes me feel slightly inferior because our social lives are on opposite ends of the social spectrum. He gives me mixed signals which are very difficult to decipher. And he used to (if not still does) liked my friend Emily at work. Which I knew and still got involved with him. Then there was his behaviour that WTF? night. And he doesn't do wonders for my self confidence. Once again, not healthy. At all.

So I text him saying that I can't do the whole friends thing anymore. That he messes with my head and this whole thing isn't great for my self confidence and we shouldn't have taken things as far as we did. I wasn't terribly articulate (blame = vodka) but I got my point across. He replied that we should be friends, he's just in a really complicated situation, blah, blah, blah. I remained firm.

I feel somewhat cleansed now. And apologies to Violet who has been telling me for awhile now to stay away from him. But you know how it is, until you realise something for yourself you're not going to believe what someone else tells you. It sucks, majorly, that I have to work with him. But he is looking for another job so fingers crossed he finds one soon. And might I just plead with you all not to get involved with someone you work with. It's not a good idea when it all goes wrong. Plus, you have that embarrassment of being in a departmental meeting and there's someone in that same meeting who has seen you naked.

It makes it very difficult to concentrate.