I know it would be uber-exciting for all of you to read this blog on Monday morning and see that I boldly walked over to Hot Neighbor's house on Saturday, knocked on his door and balls-out asked him over for dinner.
But I am not living my life for your entertainment. (Surprise!!)
While I may have moments of frustration, desperation and temptation, we all know I'm never going to do that. Yeah. Hate to be the bucket of cold water to your nice, relaxing hot shower, but let's get real, people. I just don't do that. Why?
1. In the past, all of my experiences where I have been the bold, assertive person have blown up in my face. Sure, the guys were nice enough about it, and flattered. They may have gotten my number or taken me out a couple of times, or even dated me for 6 months. But in the end, every one of them has ended up being either totally forgettable or a major dating regret (ie, The Cop). So if this was a baseball game, I'd be batting about 0 for 5. Not much of a batting average. What is that quote? The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, expecting different results? I think pretty much sums it up.
2. I am not comfortable with doing it in the first place, nevermind how it always seems to end up. I have been groomed my whole life to be an old-fashioned dater, and I am comfortable with it. It feels natural to me. I enjoy being wooed and pursued. Maybe it's because I was raised in the South, maybe it's because I'm definitely not a feminist, maybe it's because my parents' courtship was so charming and old-fashioned that I've been spoiled by their romantic tales from the mid-1970s, and now will never settle for less. Maybe it's just because I'm a girly girl. Who knows. But I feel confident when I am pursued. Not so much when I am being the aggressor. It's just not me. I think part of happiness is knowing yourself.
3. I am not one to play with fate. I think if something is meant to happen, it will happen in its own time. Since when does my life have to conform to the schedule my overly-daydreaming mind has laid out? Good grief, if I did that, I'd have 2 kids and a time share by now. Pursuing guys makes me feel like I'm forcing a relationship to happen. This doesn't sit well with me, kind of like how you have indigestion after eating too much, too fast: I can continue on with the experience, but I feel very uncomfortable. I like to allow things to happen naturally and slowly. There's no rush. I have the rest of my life to meet men.
4. He's been living next door to me for 5 months, people. Think about how often you are home in a 5 month period. Think about how many times he and I have spoken. How many different ways he could have gotten in touch with me. We are talking about numerous opportunities, all of which he has chosen to miss. This is a classic case of He's Just Not That Into Me. Which is fine. I can live with that. It happens all the time. And it's far better than forcing him to go out with me on a flattery date, only to be directly and bluntly rejected by him down the road. This is far less painful. If he were all about me, he would have been willing to risk rejection and would have asked me out already. Oh, and let's not forget my awesome timing in the looks department -- he looooves to see me when I look like total crap. This does not help my cause. So please, guys, no excuses for him. Don't give me the whole, "he's new to dating again! ease up!" or "divorcees have no self-esteem, you're going to have to meet him halfway!" or whatever. Excuses for not asking me out are bullshit, if I do say so myself. I'm a fun girl, who is easy to hang out with. Plus, I have nice boobs. I think that pretty much covers most 1st date requirements....right? Ok then.
5. I like balls. I like men with balls who ask out women fearlessly. I'm starting to think he's not that kind of guy. I'm starting to think he might be a ninny. A pushover. A doormat. Someone who waits for a domineering woman to take over and run his life for him. I can't respect people like that. Why would I settle for dating one? So can someone please explain to me why I would make a whole lasagna from scratch (about $25 and 3 hours of time, btw) for someone who can't even be bothered to take a deep breath and ask me what I'm doing this weekend? Because the more I think about it, the less interested I am in the idea. He's not lasagna-worthy at this point. (Elaine had sponges, I have lasagna.)
That being said, I'm obviously going to have to kick it up a notch in the flirting department. I've got serious competition now--he DID find his balls long enough to ask Wednesday Skank out, obviously. (I will suspend my theory that she asked him out, for the time being.) So although I'm not going to make lasagna (what, you think he'll take one bite and instantly fall madly in love with me? Come on, look who has an overactive imagination now! I mean, I know I make good lasagna, but come on!), I am going to start gardening in low-cut tops and insert some winking into my conversations with Hot Neighbor. I don't mess with fate, but I'm not against giving her a little nudge from time to time.
P.S. Don't bother calling me a wuss. I've already labeled the post appropriately. Aw, did I take the wind out of your sails?
So...I have some pics to share with you. It's Toby.
Um, I didn't realize it when I took it, but Toby is looking right at Sammy's butt in this picture...
And in this one, he wouldn't hold still, which is why he's not centered in the frame. Don't you love my awesomely landscaped backyard lawn? It's coming along perfectly...NOT.
This morning, I got to start my day at 5:30. Why was I up at 5:30, you ask? Because Toby was barfing all over my bedroom. Awesome. At first, I was just annoyed. Too sleepy to be worried, I was just wanting him to go back to bed. But he kept making noises and then I could hear some sort of splatter, which made me get up and turn on the lights.
I put two and two together in my pre-caffeinated brain: Dog is not making annoying sounds for the heck of it, dog is barfing. That is when the worry set in. I grabbed him and held him over my bathroom sink (ew) so he could barf on something that wasn't my carpeting. The dog barf had blood in it. I freaked out. So now he's at the vet, and I'm worried, because I haven't heard from the vet all day. And he hasn't had any food today, either. My poor, little pound puppy. My poor, little, expensive-as-hell pound puppy....
Ha! Not only am I Barf Queen, but my new dog is a barfer, too. Aw, he will fit in so well....