Screw The Code

My somewhat eventful evening with PWG and my now departed manager Kate has had a few repercussions.

Last week, PWG left the organisation I work for. I was quite pleased about this. With him gone, the chances of people finding out about us lessens considerably and the chances of me being known as the office slut lessens as well. Bonus.

As tradition dictates, someone leaving work means work leaving drinks. At his, me being the nosey person I am, I asked what happened between him and Kate - in a joking way, more to tease than actually get information. He declined to comment which was fair enough. At around 7.30 drinks came to a close. I thought this was a little odd, I had banked on a longer evening than that. (Although it was probably for the best as I'd had four drinks on an empty stomach and when I got home I sang at my roommate, talked to him for about 2 hours straight and then suddenly fell asleep on the sofa.) He said that he wasn't feeling well so that was that.

Fast forward to me at home (singing to my roommate). I text PWG to say I was disappointed by the drinks. He replied saying that he was too, but he really wasn't feeling well - and he went into quite a bit of detail. At that exact second I get a text from Kate:

"I hear you've been digging around for details."

Huh. They'd been talking (or texting). In my reply to PWG's text I said that Kate had just text me, thanks for telling her I'd been asking for details. Then I text Kate saying:

"Oops - sorry! Was just being silly."

Her response?

"Well I'm sitting right across from him so I'll know if you ask him anything else."

Double huh. My response?

"Sounds too messy for me. Enjoy dinner. :)"

My next (somewhat drunken) text to PWG included various rants and I left it at that. But here's the thing, what I text to him, she then replied to. They were definitely talking about me. WTF?

Here were/are my issues with this:

1. He outright lied to me. I even specifically asked him if he was meeting a friend for dinner. He said no. I didn't need to know what friend. Not only did he lie to me, he invented a long explanatory lie. Yes, friends do occasionally lie to each other. I can get over this. I just don't understand why he lied.

2. She (as far as I'm aware) doesn't know about the two of us so why was she making a big deal about the two of them being out together? I don't care that they're seeing each other - in whatever capacity that may be.

3. The two of them were talking about me and texting me...while they were together. Firstly, how childish can you get? Secondly, don't they have anything better to be talking about?

After expressing a few of these above views to PWG, Kate text me, mentioning what I said in my text to PWG. Again reinforcing the fact that the two of them were discussing me. She sent me a long text, basically saying 'it wasn't what I thought.' What I thought was that they were both being ridiculous, she was making a really big deal about being with him, and I didn't understand why. I didn't reply.

PWG text me saying that he didn't understand why she said anything, he was mad at her and he'd text me the next day. He did. We're still friends. I know him and I know that most of this was her. I explained to him that if he felt awkward about telling me he was meeting her there was no need. I'm with TWH and neither of them work with me anymore so it doesn't bother me in the slightest.

Admittedly, a lot of this was caused by drunken texts. However, what bothers me is how I thought this girl was normal and now it appears she's a little strange, childish and a bit of a show-off. She also caused me and PWG to fall out because of her need to tell me the two of them were together. I can't believe I agonised over The Code. Screw The Code.

Muhaha

The internet that we've been stealing in our apartment has suddenly disappeared, leaving me offline and bored, but I'm blogging from work to tell you this one thing.  I was out on Saturday night drinking a whole lot of beers with some boys, and guess who drunk texts me.  Jonny Fucking Damon.  That's right he texted me! 

The content of the text was of no consequence, but this tells us something.  You see, there is only one reason why a boy who ended things a month ago, who has barely contacted me since, would text me while drunk at 1:30 am on a Saturday night/Sunday morning, and that reason is this:

He's not getting any.

And this makes me happy.  Oh, oh so happy.  Cue: evil satisfied laugh.

Birthday Booty

Now that I'm old (25! eeeek!) I have a few things to blog about, please do your best to follow along.

1. My secret affair with The Roommate has ended. He texted me at the end of last week, saying he just couldn't take the guilt/awkward situations with his roommate/my former fling, The Karaoke Kid. Obviously the situation was complicated so this is for the best. KK did not find out (as far as I know) but claims he doesn't know why I just stopped talking to him. (Seriously someone needs to teach this guy how to date a girl!). To be honest I was disappointed to no longer see The Roommate (I was just making out with him 2 days previous!). We talked about all being friends in the future but he said he just needed some time before that could happen. Why does he need time?! I feel like I could just be friends with him...as long as I'm not left alone with him....The Roommate also said I need to talk The Karaoke Kid about just being friends. The problem is KK hasn't talked to me in a while and when I tried to start a conversation with him via text, he never responded. I don't really know where I stand with either of them now, which is disappointing because they were my progress in making friends in Boston. Look where it got me! Nowhere. Fine, I'll say it: You were right. But I'll also say: It was fun while it lasted.

2. Obviously nobody wants to have things end right before their birthday, especially when all one really wants to do for their birthday is A. get birthday drunk, and B. get birthday laid. Fortunately, I don't need a man to get my drink on, yet my prospects of Birthday booty were not looking good. If this blog (Fen) has taught us anything, it's that nothing is more dangerous then a lethal combination of wine, an erotic charge (that's smart people talk for horny), and a cell phone full of numbers. After assessing myself as a High threat risk (That's color orange, people!) I needed to take some preventative measures. I've learned something in my 25 years. I deleted The Roommate's phone number before going out. I would have been embarrassed after begging him to come home with me. I also warned my roommie not to let me text and she certainly held me to it. I got yelled at everytime I had my phone out, when all I was doing was texting Violet (who was prodding me to say something TFLN worthy).

3. So if you're following along, I am drunk and manless on my birthday. However, I had a really good night out, which included delicious dessert, a whole lot of wine, and a few friends, including The Mutual Friend. For those of you who need a refresher, The Mutual Friend has been my strictly platonic friend for over a year now. He's a good friend of my old hookup, Hanging Out Guy, and he too has relocated to Boston. Everytime I've hung out with MF I have to insist to my roommie, that he is in fact, just a friend. We get along really well, have great chemistry, are very flirtatious, but by no means do we have any interest in each other. On numerous occasions I've had to tell my roommie, very matter-of-factly, "He is just a friend, it is possible to be friends with someone without sleeping with them, ya know." Until it's your birthday and you're drunk and manless that is...
I'm not really sure how this happened. Sure, I flirted with him and texted Violet that I was going to marry him, but these are all normal things! I don't know how many glasses deep we were but my wine and his rum and cokes were taking effect. Our knees were touching under the table, he was holding my hand to lead me through a crowd, he was coming home with me on the basis that we were going to have a Disney movie marathon the next day, and then he was making out with me in my kitchen. At some points I started giggling, partly because I was drunk, partly because he is sooo skinny, but mostly because it was The Mutual Friend. WTF? It's not like we haven't been drunk together before. No, it wasn't awkward the next morning, yes, I will continue to be friends with him, and yes, I had a great birthday...

I realize that I keep getting myself into these situations, but in my defense (this time at least) it was my birthday. We all deserve to be Birthday drunk, we all have the right to Birthday booty. Even if he is just a friend.

Rejection Adjectives

I am no longer a cool aloof ice queen. You may remember my discovery that WW is just not that into me. However, was I smart enough to leave it at that? That would be a no.

I blame wine and technology.

I was out with friends on Friday night. After a bottle (or two) of wine we got discussing WW and the men in our lives. My friend decided that I needed closure. I have no idea why I agreed with her. I guess I just had that scene from Friends stuck in my mind where Rachel leaves Ross a voicemail: "and that my friend is what they call closure." I've always kinda wanted to do that.

Now my drunken self should have been prevented from making a fool out of myself because I had smartly deleted his number from my phone. But my drunken self can be quite canny. I remembered that his number was saved in a Facebook email. And this is where technology is evil. Thanks to the progression of cell phones that were once the size of bricks to fancy new cell phones that can access the world wide web with a touch of a few buttons, well, you can figure out the rest.

His phone number once again installed in my phone I proceeded to text him. Even at this stage it could have ended relatively painless as the first couple of texts were innocent and friendly enough. Then I ruined it.

I said something along the lines of: "Just so you know I don't make a habit of kissing my guys friends...I kind of like you...thoughts?" I have deleted the messages so I'm relying on memory here. I'm sure that you've guessed by now that my drunken text didn't work out like Violet's.

Picture the scene. It's 11.30 on a Friday night. I'm in McDonalds because I decided that I really needed a burger. Burger in one hand, phone in the other I read a text message that went something along the lines of:

"Wow, big question! I know we kissed both times we met up...you're nice but...sorry that's just how I feel."

I'm nice?! This is one of the worst rejection adjectives. Ever. If you're going to hear: "You're _____________ (insert adjective) but..." you don't want nice.

Maybe it's just me. After all why should the choice of rejection adjective matter? But I think it does. If I'm going to get rejected at least let me maintain a little bit of my dignity with a decent adjective.

So what do we think are 'good' rejection adjectives?

And once again ladies I urge you to not drink and text or dial. One of these days I will practice what I preach.

Don't drink and text!...or should you?

Here's an equation sure to get you a lot of regret:

Alcohol+boredom+a cell phone

Last night, I was out with the cute neighbor on a S.A.D. bar crawl. We were supposed to be meeting up with other single friends, but that didn't end up working out. (Although I realized that I really need to make some local female friends. I was planning on spending the evening with the cute neighbor, McNerdy, and the umpire. Those are the three friends I hang out with most frequently. Kind of hard to meet other men when with men.) The cute neighbor and I were having a good time, however, drinking too much and telling people that we were indeed Olympic ice dancers. We won gold in Torino, you see, but failed to qualify for Vancouver, apparently because I showed up to the qualifier hungover. Drunk people will believe anything. ANYTHING.

Later on in the evening, I wrapped up a conversation with an accountant who lives on my street and apparently goes to my gym. He left, and we ordered another round, and the cute neighbor started chatting up a girl. I looked around for someone to talk to, but by that time of night, everyone was either too far gone, or had already found their evening hook-up. I was full of vodka, I was bored, I whipped out my phone. I texted the Dark Horse. Something along the lines of my being an undisputed twister champion, and being extremely bendy, and shouldn't we take advantage of that?

It seemed like a brilliant idea at the time, but when I woke up this morning, I thought: Undo! Undo! Undo! That sounds that I heard was my status at having achieved ice queen nirvana flying- no, whooshing- out the window. I know that on the drunk-text scale (which we should really establish) of 1-10, 1 being "Haha, that was funny" and 10 being "I want to die, I want to die, I want to DIE," this one would probably fall on the lower end of the scale. But still. After consulting with both Grayer and Fenella, I sent my retraction: "Apologies. Must learn to never drink and text." Within a few minutes, a response: "No, it was funny!"

Whew.

Hours later, while I was watching actual figure skating on tv, a text dings: It was the Dark Horse, apologizing for not sending much of a response earlier, followed by "sooo... you're bendy, eh??? ;)"

Huh.

I responded that I am in fact bendy, and that I won 5 straight games of Twister while wearing a figure skating costume. Impressive?

Indeed. Then he asked if I still had the costume.

It was most unexpected. And very interesting. Apparently when there is no pressure of an actual relationship, you have nothing to lose and throw all the rules out, "going rogue" can work out well.

But just to be on the safe side, I think I'll hand my phone over to a responsible adult next time.