Dear Readers and Fellow Bloggers,
I do apologize for my extended absence as of late. I neglected to tell you that I have a three week vacay for the holidays (yes, send me hate mail, I know you want to) and so I have been visiting The Czarina (Mom) and my brothers Fat Dog and Fungus. I also got to hang out with my little sister, Smurf. My hometown is in the middle of Nowhere, about halfway between Podunk and Boonie, VA. It is so small, they sell t-shirts that say "Where the Hell is (insert my hometown here)?" Anyway, The Czarina has internet, but it is one step above dial-up and I just don't have the patience to post to a blog under those conditions, not to mention that it is impossible to be alone in her house and that I don't want her knowing about my blog. She snoops enough. Hence my absence. But now, after a great holiday, I am back to update you on the going-ons in Life a la VB. I am exhausted, so I will try to condense this as much as possible so I can go take a nap. Here goes....
Well, there is kind of a lot to tell you, actually. How about we just start with the fun stuff for now? Good. I will tell you about my love life then. [small cheer erupts from readers]
The week before I left to go home, I went out with FedEx guy on a Monday. Actually, I might nickname him FedSexy guy, because he is just that cute. He is a delivery guy, which just begs for me to make jokes about his "package"....but I digress. We both love coffee, so we met at Starbucks. I liked him immediatly. He is quite attractive--the stereotypical tall dark and handsome thing. But what got me was how funny and smart he is! And I instantly felt at ease around him. His adorable southern accent didn't hurt, either. Have you ever met someone and you feel like you have known them forever? If so, you know what I mean. There was lots of chemistry and he is sooooo easy to talk to. I'm not going to go on and on, but let me just say it was GOOD. I finally hit paydirt with match.com. We made general plans to hang out sometime over the weekend and left it at that. We talked on the phone a couple times during the week--it is all good! It's just getting better and better! YAY!
Now, flashforward to Friday night. I was meeting up with a girlfriend, I'll call her W for now. We are both members of a professionals club here in Columbia. It's basically just a social/networking thing. Anyway, it was their Holiday party. About an hour or two before I was leaving, FedSexy calls me. He wants to know what I'm doing, and I invite him to meet me there. He said sure. Well, I got there before he did, and I was talking to W. She introduced me to her friend from high school and his friend The Lawyer. The Lawyer is pretty cute and very nice, so of course, I begin to flirt...but I was honest--I told him I was actually sort of on a date, but my date hadn't arrived yet. The Lawyer and I flirted anyway and had just gotten to the point where he was about to enter my number in his cell phone when FedSexy arrived. I said to The Lawyer, "Well, there's my date! I guess sometimes you meet the right person at the wrong time!" Then I introduced FedSexy to The Lawyer. (I know, I know--I did it again. I swear, I am not trying to be a player! I am honest with everyone! FedSexy asked me if I was dating anyone else and I told him I was--so no one is in the dark!) Later on, I ended up giving my number to The Lawyer via W's help, but I will discuss that later...
FedSexy and I hung out for a while while I introduced him to some people and he introduced me to some people (it was a really great party, actually!) and then he and I left to go get coffee (again). We also share a love of CourtTV--I'm telling you, he and I really click. We talked for about three hours. Then when we were walking back to his car, he kissed me. Oh man oh man. I can sum it up in one word: hot. As in, Wait, where am I? That was incredible...I almost just fell over. Yeah, just that good. Ladies, you know what I mean. Later in the weekend, he came over and watched a movie. I had just made some of my super-yummy (if I do say so myself) pumpkin bread. This is his new favorite dessert (his words, not mine). He would have eaten all of it if I had let him! So we munched and watched the movie...and made out on my couch like high school students. It was incredible!!!
And then I left town for the holidays....without telling him I was leaving and that my cell doesn't get reception at The Czarina's house (remember, I live in Nowheresville). I know, I'm an idiot. I was completely mezmerized, what can I say? So he (and all the other people I forgot to tell) called me a couple of times, probably wondering why I hadn't called back. Finally, I go into town where there is reception and I call him back. Whew! I left a message explaining myself. Then I called as I was driving back to SC last Wednesday afternoon. He wanted to know if I would go out to dinner with him when I got back. I looked like s--t but accepted the invitation.
Dinner was great. He was even funnier and there was even more chemistry...oh, and more making out on my couch. Aren't I absurd?? I seriously cannot help myself. I have not had this much chemistry with someone in YEARS. I was seriously having the hardest time keeping my clothes on and my mouth shut. But I did. I was a good girl. This one might be a keeper--I don't want to mess it up. So I have been on my best behavior. By that, I mean that I am playing hard to get. Yeah, the old standby. I like to think of it as Heartbreak Insurance really. You pay your premiums in delayed gratification. See, I woke up the morning after the dinner with one thought on my mind: Holy cow. Is it possible to be in love with someone after three dates? And I got really freaked out. Already, I'm in a position where I can get hurt. That's fast, even for me. I can NOT stop thinking about him. I think I'm going insane. That's why I have to play hard to get. Otherwise, I will come off as stalker-ish. Also, by playing hard to get, I can sit back and see how interested he is in me without making an ass of myself. I have been collecting data...
So far, this is what I have in my favor: he wanted to know if I was seeing anyone else, he said he missed me when I went home for the holidays, he said he really likes hanging out with me and that he doesn't usually warm up to someone this quickly.
[VB jumps up and down, vigorously thrusting arms and kicking legs and shouting, "YESSSSS!"]
Of course, I didn't say that I felt the same way. Even though I do. Stupid, right? I don't say stuff like that so soon--it makes me feel vulnerable. I need time to get comfortable before feeling like those types of statements are ok to say. And I don't want to come off as clingy or needy or stalker-ish. So I just sort of said, "Well, thank you." to all of the above statements from him. I completely wussed out. Was that dumb? Or am I better at playing hard to get than I thought I was?
Then, there is the bad data, too....like the last-minute dates. I don't want to be last-minute girl. But I have no one to blame but myself. You teach people how to treat you, and I have put myself in this spot. Dang! So, no more. I will not do that anymore. Time to start booking up my calendar.....and becoming even more determined to be the Elusive Carrot (tempting, yet always just out of reach!). I am not worried. I can do that. Hell, I invented playing hard to get. The real problem is this:
HE HAS NOT CALLED ME IN THREE DAYS.
And of course, playing Hard to Get precludes my contacting him. I will not bother to type it out, but you can imagine the stream of expletives which gush out of my mouth everytime I think of that. I am not exaggerating when I say I think I am going to crawl out of my skin over this. I want to cry and scream and tear my hair out. It feels like this:
You are hit with a sudden, urgent craving for a specific snack while you are in the grocery store. You know--one of those Stop the world. I need Oreos. kind of moments. So you speed over to the cookie aisle, round the corner, and are suddenly stuck behind some slow-ass fat old lady who is blocking you from the last package of Oreos. Suddenly, everything is in slow motion. She reaches for the Oreos, fondles them gently in her withered yet chubby old hands and mumbles to herself, "You know, I've never tried these, although they've been around even longer than I have. I wonder if they are as good as people say. I need these cookies like I need a hole in my head. Hmmm...I think I will buy this last package and see." Then she lets them drop, ever so carelessly, into her cart, where they crash into her canned goods. On top of them, she tosses a 5 pound bag of sugar. You watch, horrified, as the last of the Oreos have now been totally crumpled into an inedible--albeit delicious--mass of crumbs and creamy filling. The whole time, tears streaming down your face as you fall face-first onto the dirty, cold grocery store tile, you are screaming, "Noooooooooo!!!!!!" Before grabbing her ankles. Yeah, if feels just like that. Only 100x worse.
Oh, I forgot to say one other confusing thing. His last words to me were about my New Year's Eve plans. He said, "So, you don't have any plans? Well, I guess just call me if you figure out what you are doing." WTF does that mean????? Obviously, he doesn't want to hang out with me on New Year's, despite all of the obligatory smooching at midnight. Dang!
I know, I know. Right now you are thinking/saying Just call him! Either that or Who needs Oreos that badly? What a freak. But really, wouldn't he call if he wanted to? I am a firm believer in the idea that men do what they want. So...he doesn't want to talk to me. Right? Or is he feeling rejected due to the fact that I have not clearly stated to him that I really like hanging out with him despite his ability to say so to me? Does he already feel rejected? I made out with him! Twice! Isn't that enough to indicate interest???
I am seriously going insane.
Shoot. I really do have to go. Places to go and people to see!!! I promise I will fill you in some more later on. To anyone reading this, Happy New Year!!!!!!
Saturday, December 31, 2005
Thursday, December 15, 2005
Disrespectful Dan
When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time. --Oprah Winfrey, who attributes it to Maya Angelou
This is a quote I heard recently, and I can say it is one of the best pieces of advice I've ever heard. It is one of my new mantras, actually. I'm going to start following it more often. Starting today.
Last night I had a date with Danger Dan. As you probably noticed from the title of this entry, his nickname is now Disrespectul Dan. We had a great time when we met for drinks last week--I was definitely interested. He was funny and considerate. But ever since then, it's sort of fizzled. The last couple of phone conversations we had were awkward. His cell phone is broken so his calls get dropped. He likes to call me from his garage so there is an echo. He pauses so long between his statements that I'm constantly saying, "Hello? Are you there?" You get the picture--talking with him is a chore. I knew I was feeling uncomfortable about the date because as I was getting ready, I didn't want to wear anything revealing or low-cut. That is a definite sign I'm not super-keen on the date in the first place. So we were already off to an uncomfortable start, in my book.
When we were driving to the restaurant, another driver pulled in front of him. The other driver used his turn signal and switched into our lane as nicely as possible. It wasn't a dangerous driving maneuver, but it was enough to warrant Dan braking slightly. He made a comment under his breath, which I can't hold against him. I probably would have done the same thing. It's what he did next that bothered me: He immediatly turned his brights on and tailed the guy. Yeah, mature. No boundary or anger issues here. I thought, "Cue red flag #1...."
As we were driving to the restaurant, I was explaining my Bigfoot situation to him. I felt relieved when he told me a horrible roommate situation he had once. The bad roommate conned his way out of paying rent for three months. I was enjoying the story...until he got to the part where he "made a bunch of phone calls to try and get even by getting his boss to withhold money from his paycheck." At this point I'm thinking, "What is it with this guy and getting even?? Red flag #2, buddy!"
I'm thinking maybe he is trying to prove to me that he is macho or something, so I try and forget the revenge-oriented behavior. We went to an Italian restaurant and ordered salads and entrees. We talked...and talked....still no salads. Finally our entrees arrived via another waitress. We explained that we hadn't gotten our salads yet. She went back to the kitchen to sort things out. Our waitress returned with our salads, and my date said in a semi-snide tone of voice, "Oh, you can just cancel the salads and bring out our entrees. Forget the salads. We don't want our food to get cold." Keep in mind that I had just told him I used to wait tables and used to hate it when people got their noses out of joint over minor things. Not too bright, is he?
Did you notice he didn't consult me about the salads? Yeah, so did I. Mostly because I wanted to eat my salad. Oh well. We did have a movie to catch, right? Besides, I didn't have much of an appetite, what with my raging cold. So I let it go. (Yes, I know. I should have said something. I blame my nasal congestion for clouding my judgement.)
So we get our food, and we are talking...and then he interrupts me. Pretty blatantly. At this point, I'm imagining World War II kamikaze planes crashing and burning into aircraft carriers. Yeah, he's pretty much blowing it. He's definitely off the potential smooch list at this point. He is now on the Do Not Touch Me list. All before an hour has passed. This might be a new record...
Dan then told me a story about how he stopped by a friend's house once around dinnertime. Tacos were ready when he got there. He proceeded to sit down and eat his fill ASAP. His friend turns to him and says, "Uh...can you stop? There isn't anything left for my family to eat. We have to make more food, in fact. I said you could have some, not all." Then Dan laughed about how embarrassed he was. Then he proceeds to help himself to my dinner. No joke. I want to scream, "Who are you and what did you do with the nice guy I met last weekend???" He just stuck his fork into my bowl, speared a shrimp (of which I had only 5 to start!) and said, "Wow, that's good. Just one more bite...." and then had three more.
Did you notice he didn't ask? Did you notice he didn't offer me a bite of his? Yeah, so did I. He had already eaten all of his, so that wasn't really an option anyway. This date was becoming a nightmare. The thing about it is, I always offer people bites of my food--I'm very generous with it!-- and I was just about to do so when he started chowing down on my dinner. If he had waited a split second, I would not have even been upset. You'd think that my hacking cough would be a deterrent to his sharing my food.
At this point, I really just want to get things overwith. I ask how we are doing on time, since we were about to order dessert. He said we were actually about 45 minutes ahead of schedule. Super...not! So we order our dessert, which was free thanks to the salad fiasco (I was really embarrassed by the big deal he made. I wanted to apologize to the waitress, but my hands were tied). You know what's coming next, don't you? Yeah, he ate all of his dessert, and then ate the rest of my dessert. Again, without asking. I excuse myself to go to the bathroom when the check arrives. He didn't even earn my offer to pay. Why should I? He ate my food and denied me my salad.
I come out of the bathroom to find the table empty. He had already paid and so I had to go wandering around the restaurant looking for him! How about something along the lines of, "Hey, I'll meet you by the front door, ok?" or "I'll wait outside the bathroom for you." Good grief! Couldn't he have waited the sixty seconds it took me to go to the bathroom? It's not like we were late for the movie. Oh, how I wished we were.
We went to the bookstore to kill some time. So we are browsing the new fiction when he says, "Gosh, you sure do know a lot about all these authors." I wanted to shout, "I'm a librarian, you idiot!" and then call a cab and leave. Of course, I didn't. I know, I know. Just let me finish the story.
Usually when you go to bookstores, you are reading lots of book jacket summaries. Silently. Sure, you might share with your companion a really funny book or picture, but only briefly so as to have a good chuckle before going back to your reading. Disrespectful Dan, on the other hand, finds four-chapter excerpts to read to you out loud. He doesn't pick up on the fact that you are trying to read another book. And it was a stupid book--one of those writers who thinks they are hilarious, when really their story makes no sense. This got on my last frickin' nerve. I wanted to slap him. If I wanted to read that entire book as soon as possible, I would buy it. Or at least pick it up! But maybe I was overreacting to this because of everything that had led up to it. (I should add in one other tidbit of info here. I checked out another guy while we were there. This is another sign I'm not into a guy. I didn't even do it consciously, it was just one of those, "Hey....hello, cute bookstore guy! Is he here alone? Dammit, what am I doing? I'm on a date!")
So we go to the movie. As we take our seats, he drops a piece of information on my lap: King Kong is about three hours long. It's almost 9pm when he tells me this. Um, what? That means this movie gets out at midnight? Thanks for the heads up on being totally exhausted for work tomorrow! So considerate of you. The movie wasn't bad. There were some gross scenes and I don't get how a giant crazed monkey can have more humanistic tendencies than some of the human characters, but whatever. I just wanted it to end. I already knew about King Kong--I just had dinner with him. I have a decent attention span, but even I was dying. Eventually, it did finally end and he drove me home. We sat in his truck for a few minutes talking, and he asked me if I'd like to go see a hockey game this weekend. I said sure. (See, the thing is, I wasn't as irritated with him as I am now that it has all sunk in. I know, I know. I'm an idiot. Feel free to berate me in the comments.)
But don't give up hope on me yet!!!! Because by the time I went inside my house, it had all become clear: I have no intention of ever seeing this jerkoff again. This is why: He couldn't even be bothered to walk me to the door. I told him I had to go to bed...I had a nice time...and he just sat there. Ok....I'll just walk myself to the door. I'm just some freight that he has to leave curbside, apparently. So I had to trudge through my front yard in the freezing rain alone, getting my new leather jacket wet. Gosh, how charming. I should have said, "No, no! You stay inside your nice, warm, cozy little truck, Precious! We can't have you all wet now, can we?" Sheesh! Even my guy friends walk me to the door. What an asshole. Doesn't he realize that all smooches take place on my doorstep? Maybe he had already figured out that he had a better chance of getting kneed in the nards!
I hope he catches my cold from eating my leftovers for lunch today!
This is a quote I heard recently, and I can say it is one of the best pieces of advice I've ever heard. It is one of my new mantras, actually. I'm going to start following it more often. Starting today.
Last night I had a date with Danger Dan. As you probably noticed from the title of this entry, his nickname is now Disrespectul Dan. We had a great time when we met for drinks last week--I was definitely interested. He was funny and considerate. But ever since then, it's sort of fizzled. The last couple of phone conversations we had were awkward. His cell phone is broken so his calls get dropped. He likes to call me from his garage so there is an echo. He pauses so long between his statements that I'm constantly saying, "Hello? Are you there?" You get the picture--talking with him is a chore. I knew I was feeling uncomfortable about the date because as I was getting ready, I didn't want to wear anything revealing or low-cut. That is a definite sign I'm not super-keen on the date in the first place. So we were already off to an uncomfortable start, in my book.
When we were driving to the restaurant, another driver pulled in front of him. The other driver used his turn signal and switched into our lane as nicely as possible. It wasn't a dangerous driving maneuver, but it was enough to warrant Dan braking slightly. He made a comment under his breath, which I can't hold against him. I probably would have done the same thing. It's what he did next that bothered me: He immediatly turned his brights on and tailed the guy. Yeah, mature. No boundary or anger issues here. I thought, "Cue red flag #1...."
As we were driving to the restaurant, I was explaining my Bigfoot situation to him. I felt relieved when he told me a horrible roommate situation he had once. The bad roommate conned his way out of paying rent for three months. I was enjoying the story...until he got to the part where he "made a bunch of phone calls to try and get even by getting his boss to withhold money from his paycheck." At this point I'm thinking, "What is it with this guy and getting even?? Red flag #2, buddy!"
I'm thinking maybe he is trying to prove to me that he is macho or something, so I try and forget the revenge-oriented behavior. We went to an Italian restaurant and ordered salads and entrees. We talked...and talked....still no salads. Finally our entrees arrived via another waitress. We explained that we hadn't gotten our salads yet. She went back to the kitchen to sort things out. Our waitress returned with our salads, and my date said in a semi-snide tone of voice, "Oh, you can just cancel the salads and bring out our entrees. Forget the salads. We don't want our food to get cold." Keep in mind that I had just told him I used to wait tables and used to hate it when people got their noses out of joint over minor things. Not too bright, is he?
Did you notice he didn't consult me about the salads? Yeah, so did I. Mostly because I wanted to eat my salad. Oh well. We did have a movie to catch, right? Besides, I didn't have much of an appetite, what with my raging cold. So I let it go. (Yes, I know. I should have said something. I blame my nasal congestion for clouding my judgement.)
So we get our food, and we are talking...and then he interrupts me. Pretty blatantly. At this point, I'm imagining World War II kamikaze planes crashing and burning into aircraft carriers. Yeah, he's pretty much blowing it. He's definitely off the potential smooch list at this point. He is now on the Do Not Touch Me list. All before an hour has passed. This might be a new record...
Dan then told me a story about how he stopped by a friend's house once around dinnertime. Tacos were ready when he got there. He proceeded to sit down and eat his fill ASAP. His friend turns to him and says, "Uh...can you stop? There isn't anything left for my family to eat. We have to make more food, in fact. I said you could have some, not all." Then Dan laughed about how embarrassed he was. Then he proceeds to help himself to my dinner. No joke. I want to scream, "Who are you and what did you do with the nice guy I met last weekend???" He just stuck his fork into my bowl, speared a shrimp (of which I had only 5 to start!) and said, "Wow, that's good. Just one more bite...." and then had three more.
Did you notice he didn't ask? Did you notice he didn't offer me a bite of his? Yeah, so did I. He had already eaten all of his, so that wasn't really an option anyway. This date was becoming a nightmare. The thing about it is, I always offer people bites of my food--I'm very generous with it!-- and I was just about to do so when he started chowing down on my dinner. If he had waited a split second, I would not have even been upset. You'd think that my hacking cough would be a deterrent to his sharing my food.
At this point, I really just want to get things overwith. I ask how we are doing on time, since we were about to order dessert. He said we were actually about 45 minutes ahead of schedule. Super...not! So we order our dessert, which was free thanks to the salad fiasco (I was really embarrassed by the big deal he made. I wanted to apologize to the waitress, but my hands were tied). You know what's coming next, don't you? Yeah, he ate all of his dessert, and then ate the rest of my dessert. Again, without asking. I excuse myself to go to the bathroom when the check arrives. He didn't even earn my offer to pay. Why should I? He ate my food and denied me my salad.
I come out of the bathroom to find the table empty. He had already paid and so I had to go wandering around the restaurant looking for him! How about something along the lines of, "Hey, I'll meet you by the front door, ok?" or "I'll wait outside the bathroom for you." Good grief! Couldn't he have waited the sixty seconds it took me to go to the bathroom? It's not like we were late for the movie. Oh, how I wished we were.
We went to the bookstore to kill some time. So we are browsing the new fiction when he says, "Gosh, you sure do know a lot about all these authors." I wanted to shout, "I'm a librarian, you idiot!" and then call a cab and leave. Of course, I didn't. I know, I know. Just let me finish the story.
Usually when you go to bookstores, you are reading lots of book jacket summaries. Silently. Sure, you might share with your companion a really funny book or picture, but only briefly so as to have a good chuckle before going back to your reading. Disrespectful Dan, on the other hand, finds four-chapter excerpts to read to you out loud. He doesn't pick up on the fact that you are trying to read another book. And it was a stupid book--one of those writers who thinks they are hilarious, when really their story makes no sense. This got on my last frickin' nerve. I wanted to slap him. If I wanted to read that entire book as soon as possible, I would buy it. Or at least pick it up! But maybe I was overreacting to this because of everything that had led up to it. (I should add in one other tidbit of info here. I checked out another guy while we were there. This is another sign I'm not into a guy. I didn't even do it consciously, it was just one of those, "Hey....hello, cute bookstore guy! Is he here alone? Dammit, what am I doing? I'm on a date!")
So we go to the movie. As we take our seats, he drops a piece of information on my lap: King Kong is about three hours long. It's almost 9pm when he tells me this. Um, what? That means this movie gets out at midnight? Thanks for the heads up on being totally exhausted for work tomorrow! So considerate of you. The movie wasn't bad. There were some gross scenes and I don't get how a giant crazed monkey can have more humanistic tendencies than some of the human characters, but whatever. I just wanted it to end. I already knew about King Kong--I just had dinner with him. I have a decent attention span, but even I was dying. Eventually, it did finally end and he drove me home. We sat in his truck for a few minutes talking, and he asked me if I'd like to go see a hockey game this weekend. I said sure. (See, the thing is, I wasn't as irritated with him as I am now that it has all sunk in. I know, I know. I'm an idiot. Feel free to berate me in the comments.)
But don't give up hope on me yet!!!! Because by the time I went inside my house, it had all become clear: I have no intention of ever seeing this jerkoff again. This is why: He couldn't even be bothered to walk me to the door. I told him I had to go to bed...I had a nice time...and he just sat there. Ok....I'll just walk myself to the door. I'm just some freight that he has to leave curbside, apparently. So I had to trudge through my front yard in the freezing rain alone, getting my new leather jacket wet. Gosh, how charming. I should have said, "No, no! You stay inside your nice, warm, cozy little truck, Precious! We can't have you all wet now, can we?" Sheesh! Even my guy friends walk me to the door. What an asshole. Doesn't he realize that all smooches take place on my doorstep? Maybe he had already figured out that he had a better chance of getting kneed in the nards!
I hope he catches my cold from eating my leftovers for lunch today!
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
A Tale of Warning
The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry. --Robert Burns
A friend of mine told me this story the other day, and I thought it was too good to pass up sharing on my blog. I asked her permission, and luckily she said it would be fine.
About three months ago she started dating this great guy and they decided to wait a relatively long time before doing the deed. This, of course, only builds the expectations of both parties. She was nervous enough because the guy is about 5 years younger than she. Now, thanks to this "waiting period", she had ample time to worry about everything in their relationship: What if he doesn't know what he is doing? Will he take offense if I tell him what to do? What does that say about me that this is the first guy I have really been interested in since my divorce? What does that say about him that he is interested in an older woman that smokes like a chimney, drinks like a fish and cusses like a sailor? What if people at work find out? (Yeah, she just decided to add in "office romance" to make it interesting.) So by the time they decided to take things to another level, they were both adequately schizoid.
Eventually, she started to get so freaked out with anticipation and expectations that she couldn't communicate clearly to him what she wanted or hoped for in bed. When they finally sat down to actually talk about consummating the relationship, she panicked and instead made jokes about what she imagined would be their first, super-cheesy romantic rendezvous. She tells him that she wants candles and rose petals and body oil and soft music--the whole schpiel. She was kidding. She even called me to laugh about telling him all that cheesy stuff-- she thought she was being hilarious. But remember, he was also panicked and full of anticipation and nerves. So he took her literally and began collecting all the cheesy props needed for a stereotypical romantic seduction. When she was telling me this story, she said, "Well, secretly, I really did want all the cheesy stuff. But I didn't think he would realize that! I thought he'd think I was kidding! Which I wasn't...really." (Raise your hand if you think this relationship so far is a paragon of communication. Yeah, me neither.)
So, she came over to his house, where he surprised her with roses and petals and a bubble bath, etc. She is pleasantly surprised and excited at his ability to understand what she really wants, despite her encrypted message. Maybe they are meant for each other. So, it's time for the show to begin, and just as they are getting down to business, they are interrupted. The pillowcase was on fire. I think her hair might have been singed a little bit, too. They had inadvertently gotten too close to a candle. You'd think that this would be a mood-killer, but the show must go on, apparently, because they just simply put out the flame, took the battery out of the fire alarm and went back to work. If they had known what was about to happen, they probably would have taken this as a bad omen and stopped. But then I wouldn't be telling this story.
A few minutes passed when she asked, "What's that smell?"
They look down on the floor to find that another candle had not only completely melted into a puddle on the floor, but was now proceeding to burn its way through the carpet and flooring. The apartment was on fire. Now, for some reason, people sometimes do stupid things when they are faced with small apartment fires. This guy decided that he would stop the blazing candle using nothing but his bare hand. A split second too late, he learns about the connection between melted wax, second-degree burns and the number of nerve endings in one's hands. She then also tries to think quickly and gets the brilliant idea to smother his hand with ice, which proceeds to stick to his burned skin and peel patches of it off with the removal of each cube.
"Did you take a trip to the emergency room?" I asked, trying hard to control my laughter and selfishly hoping that was what happened next, as it would make for an even more hilarious "first-time" story.
"No, we didn't," she said, sensing the ulterior motive behind my question, "...but the doctor told him he should have."
"So, did you guys....?"
"Oh yeah. We did it before the whole burn thing happened," she explained.
"Well, that's good. What did he say when the doctor asked about how he got the burn?"
"Oh, he made up some story about a cooking accident. He's had to tell the made up story to like 10 people now. He kind of has to since he is wearing a huge bandage on his hand. Everyone asks. He told me his only regret was that it wasn't a third-degree burn because those burns kill your nerve endings and then he wouldn't be in pain."
"I guess you can always describe your first time as 'hot'!" I laughed.
"I hate you. Shut up."
There is now a huge, black, melted-wax-and-burned-carpet area in his bedroom. The carpet has to be replaced, in fact. So to anyone out there reading this who thinks it's a good idea to reach a fever pitch of delayed gratification before doing the deed with a new person, just remember this story. And forget the candles.
A friend of mine told me this story the other day, and I thought it was too good to pass up sharing on my blog. I asked her permission, and luckily she said it would be fine.
About three months ago she started dating this great guy and they decided to wait a relatively long time before doing the deed. This, of course, only builds the expectations of both parties. She was nervous enough because the guy is about 5 years younger than she. Now, thanks to this "waiting period", she had ample time to worry about everything in their relationship: What if he doesn't know what he is doing? Will he take offense if I tell him what to do? What does that say about me that this is the first guy I have really been interested in since my divorce? What does that say about him that he is interested in an older woman that smokes like a chimney, drinks like a fish and cusses like a sailor? What if people at work find out? (Yeah, she just decided to add in "office romance" to make it interesting.) So by the time they decided to take things to another level, they were both adequately schizoid.
Eventually, she started to get so freaked out with anticipation and expectations that she couldn't communicate clearly to him what she wanted or hoped for in bed. When they finally sat down to actually talk about consummating the relationship, she panicked and instead made jokes about what she imagined would be their first, super-cheesy romantic rendezvous. She tells him that she wants candles and rose petals and body oil and soft music--the whole schpiel. She was kidding. She even called me to laugh about telling him all that cheesy stuff-- she thought she was being hilarious. But remember, he was also panicked and full of anticipation and nerves. So he took her literally and began collecting all the cheesy props needed for a stereotypical romantic seduction. When she was telling me this story, she said, "Well, secretly, I really did want all the cheesy stuff. But I didn't think he would realize that! I thought he'd think I was kidding! Which I wasn't...really." (Raise your hand if you think this relationship so far is a paragon of communication. Yeah, me neither.)
So, she came over to his house, where he surprised her with roses and petals and a bubble bath, etc. She is pleasantly surprised and excited at his ability to understand what she really wants, despite her encrypted message. Maybe they are meant for each other. So, it's time for the show to begin, and just as they are getting down to business, they are interrupted. The pillowcase was on fire. I think her hair might have been singed a little bit, too. They had inadvertently gotten too close to a candle. You'd think that this would be a mood-killer, but the show must go on, apparently, because they just simply put out the flame, took the battery out of the fire alarm and went back to work. If they had known what was about to happen, they probably would have taken this as a bad omen and stopped. But then I wouldn't be telling this story.
A few minutes passed when she asked, "What's that smell?"
They look down on the floor to find that another candle had not only completely melted into a puddle on the floor, but was now proceeding to burn its way through the carpet and flooring. The apartment was on fire. Now, for some reason, people sometimes do stupid things when they are faced with small apartment fires. This guy decided that he would stop the blazing candle using nothing but his bare hand. A split second too late, he learns about the connection between melted wax, second-degree burns and the number of nerve endings in one's hands. She then also tries to think quickly and gets the brilliant idea to smother his hand with ice, which proceeds to stick to his burned skin and peel patches of it off with the removal of each cube.
"Did you take a trip to the emergency room?" I asked, trying hard to control my laughter and selfishly hoping that was what happened next, as it would make for an even more hilarious "first-time" story.
"No, we didn't," she said, sensing the ulterior motive behind my question, "...but the doctor told him he should have."
"So, did you guys....?"
"Oh yeah. We did it before the whole burn thing happened," she explained.
"Well, that's good. What did he say when the doctor asked about how he got the burn?"
"Oh, he made up some story about a cooking accident. He's had to tell the made up story to like 10 people now. He kind of has to since he is wearing a huge bandage on his hand. Everyone asks. He told me his only regret was that it wasn't a third-degree burn because those burns kill your nerve endings and then he wouldn't be in pain."
"I guess you can always describe your first time as 'hot'!" I laughed.
"I hate you. Shut up."
There is now a huge, black, melted-wax-and-burned-carpet area in his bedroom. The carpet has to be replaced, in fact. So to anyone out there reading this who thinks it's a good idea to reach a fever pitch of delayed gratification before doing the deed with a new person, just remember this story. And forget the candles.
The Process of Elimination?
Save a boyfriend for a rainy day...and another in case it doesn't rain.--Mae West
I say this because I think I'm dating two guys I will end up liking a lot. Just when I get bummed out about dating, I suck it up, get back on the horse and suddenly things are actually going pretty well. I think I just needed to have a good date to get in a more optimistic frame of mind. Granted, I don't seem to meet guys in any storybook fashion, but so far they are great, which is what matters. You have to kiss a lot of frogs when it comes to match.com, I suppose! I've already mentioned Danger Dan. So I will fill you in on my other good date, after I update ya'll on some other stuff.
My last post was about Friday night. Saturday morning I worked and then went to the gym. I got home in time to watch the IU basketball game (We spanked Kentucky! Take THAT, Ashley Judd!) . Then I went out with a new friend, one of my favorite things to do. You can learn so much about someone the first time you party with them. I was the only girl in the group, which is really fun if you are with nice guys, which I was. We went to this place called Local's, which is normally filled with college kids, but since most college kids have gone home this time of year, it was filled with lots and lots of hot guys!!!! I think I may have gotten a little bit of whiplash from checking them out. I am definitely going to hang out here again, if only for the eye candy. One of cutest guys there was an acquaintance of my friend, so I will try and get the scoop on him later. I didn't want to get into that kind of discussion the first time hanging out with someone--it would have felt rude. The only bad thing about the evening was that it ended much too soon. We had a great time, and now I have three new friends.
Sunday, I woke up feeling terrible. I made the oh-so-intelligent decision to smoke a lot of cigarettes on Saturday night, so I was hurting when I got up. Plus, I had to get up after only six hours of sleep because I was going to Charleston with K. [Note to anyone who has never been to Charleston--make plans to visit. It rox my sox.] K.'s boyfriend lives down there and so we went to hang out with him and his friend. The four of us had a really good time. We laughed a lot and all got along really well. The boyfriend's friend and I had a lot in common, so that was good. No sparks, but he's a really nice guy. The four of us did some Christmas shopping, caught a movie and had dinner. The movie was pretty good. It was about a guy who was stuck in The Friend Zone (TFZ). So it was pretty funny. One of the things discussed in the movie was how if you are interested in a girl, you shouldn't ask her out to lunch. Daytime dates are for friends. Taking a girl to dinner indicates you are interested in her. Hmmm...food for thought. I think there is probably something to that.
So I got home and promptly fell asleep. I was exhausted!
Last night, I went to Starbuck's to meet Cute Trey. He hugged me when we met, and let me tell you, Cute Trey smells very dee-lish. Mmmm......He had these cute little glasses on and nibbly little lips... I definitely want to smooch on him....some day. I asked him if he had been at Local's on Saturday and he said he had. I told him I saw him there, but didn't want to say hi in case it wasn't him. I guess I was too shy. He told me I looked better in person, which I didn't know how to take. That was sort of a back-handed compliment. We had a really good conversation. There was definitely chemistry and laughter on both sides of the table. It turns out, we watch all of the same tv shows. Good to know we'll never fight over the remote! We had some other stuff in common too, but I won't bore you with the details. Just let me say that he is a very motivated individual who is trying to be a good, hard-working and educated human being. I got no wierd vibes from him, which is very good. I'm kind of wondering why he is single, actually. So I will definitely be seeing him again. Maybe this weekend....I'll keep you posted.
I also talked to Danger Dan last night. I call him Danger Dan because he has a motorcycle and is on a special disease outbreak haz-mat team, so if any terrorists ever released smallpox on Columbia, he'd be the one to call because he is trained in handling situations like that. So cool! We made plans to hang out tomorrow night and I'm pretty excited. He has boyfriend potential, which is a term I don't throw around a lot. At first I thought he might have a Mickey Mouse voice, which is a big turn-off, but it must have been my imagination. I'm looking forward to seeing him again. :)
So far, no email from Mark, the guy I approached when waiting for Danger Dan. I hope he will email me. Maybe he is doing that whole 3-day wait thing that guys do.
I also talked to The Pharmacist--I called him, which is something I don't usually do. He's such a sweetie. We are both pretty busy, so I don't know when we will get together.
I can't tell you where to place your bets. The odds are pretty evenly matched. I feel like I'm stuck in my own real-life episode of Elimidate! I'm sure it's just a matter of time before someone pulls ahead.
Well, that's about it for now. I know this post wasn't the most entertaining, but I like to keep my readers up-to-date. I'm sure I'll do something stupid soon and have a funny story to relate. Until then....
I say this because I think I'm dating two guys I will end up liking a lot. Just when I get bummed out about dating, I suck it up, get back on the horse and suddenly things are actually going pretty well. I think I just needed to have a good date to get in a more optimistic frame of mind. Granted, I don't seem to meet guys in any storybook fashion, but so far they are great, which is what matters. You have to kiss a lot of frogs when it comes to match.com, I suppose! I've already mentioned Danger Dan. So I will fill you in on my other good date, after I update ya'll on some other stuff.
My last post was about Friday night. Saturday morning I worked and then went to the gym. I got home in time to watch the IU basketball game (We spanked Kentucky! Take THAT, Ashley Judd!) . Then I went out with a new friend, one of my favorite things to do. You can learn so much about someone the first time you party with them. I was the only girl in the group, which is really fun if you are with nice guys, which I was. We went to this place called Local's, which is normally filled with college kids, but since most college kids have gone home this time of year, it was filled with lots and lots of hot guys!!!! I think I may have gotten a little bit of whiplash from checking them out. I am definitely going to hang out here again, if only for the eye candy. One of cutest guys there was an acquaintance of my friend, so I will try and get the scoop on him later. I didn't want to get into that kind of discussion the first time hanging out with someone--it would have felt rude. The only bad thing about the evening was that it ended much too soon. We had a great time, and now I have three new friends.
Sunday, I woke up feeling terrible. I made the oh-so-intelligent decision to smoke a lot of cigarettes on Saturday night, so I was hurting when I got up. Plus, I had to get up after only six hours of sleep because I was going to Charleston with K. [Note to anyone who has never been to Charleston--make plans to visit. It rox my sox.] K.'s boyfriend lives down there and so we went to hang out with him and his friend. The four of us had a really good time. We laughed a lot and all got along really well. The boyfriend's friend and I had a lot in common, so that was good. No sparks, but he's a really nice guy. The four of us did some Christmas shopping, caught a movie and had dinner. The movie was pretty good. It was about a guy who was stuck in The Friend Zone (TFZ). So it was pretty funny. One of the things discussed in the movie was how if you are interested in a girl, you shouldn't ask her out to lunch. Daytime dates are for friends. Taking a girl to dinner indicates you are interested in her. Hmmm...food for thought. I think there is probably something to that.
So I got home and promptly fell asleep. I was exhausted!
Last night, I went to Starbuck's to meet Cute Trey. He hugged me when we met, and let me tell you, Cute Trey smells very dee-lish. Mmmm......He had these cute little glasses on and nibbly little lips... I definitely want to smooch on him....some day. I asked him if he had been at Local's on Saturday and he said he had. I told him I saw him there, but didn't want to say hi in case it wasn't him. I guess I was too shy. He told me I looked better in person, which I didn't know how to take. That was sort of a back-handed compliment. We had a really good conversation. There was definitely chemistry and laughter on both sides of the table. It turns out, we watch all of the same tv shows. Good to know we'll never fight over the remote! We had some other stuff in common too, but I won't bore you with the details. Just let me say that he is a very motivated individual who is trying to be a good, hard-working and educated human being. I got no wierd vibes from him, which is very good. I'm kind of wondering why he is single, actually. So I will definitely be seeing him again. Maybe this weekend....I'll keep you posted.
I also talked to Danger Dan last night. I call him Danger Dan because he has a motorcycle and is on a special disease outbreak haz-mat team, so if any terrorists ever released smallpox on Columbia, he'd be the one to call because he is trained in handling situations like that. So cool! We made plans to hang out tomorrow night and I'm pretty excited. He has boyfriend potential, which is a term I don't throw around a lot. At first I thought he might have a Mickey Mouse voice, which is a big turn-off, but it must have been my imagination. I'm looking forward to seeing him again. :)
So far, no email from Mark, the guy I approached when waiting for Danger Dan. I hope he will email me. Maybe he is doing that whole 3-day wait thing that guys do.
I also talked to The Pharmacist--I called him, which is something I don't usually do. He's such a sweetie. We are both pretty busy, so I don't know when we will get together.
I can't tell you where to place your bets. The odds are pretty evenly matched. I feel like I'm stuck in my own real-life episode of Elimidate! I'm sure it's just a matter of time before someone pulls ahead.
Well, that's about it for now. I know this post wasn't the most entertaining, but I like to keep my readers up-to-date. I'm sure I'll do something stupid soon and have a funny story to relate. Until then....
Saturday, December 10, 2005
The Playa
I ain't a playa, I just crush a lot. --Big Pun
I can't believe I just quoted Big Pun in my blog. I'm really exposing my terrible taste in music right now. Anyway, the playa I'm referring to here would be.....me. Let me explain...
Last night I was running late to meet Danger Dan. I wanted to call him to tell him I was running late, but I had left his number in my other purse. Then I realized he didn't have my cell number, just my work number. Oops. Oh well. So, I got to the bar where we were planning on meeting, and by then I was 10-15 minutes late. I felt really bad--you should be on time for first dates! Or at least call! I'm such a spaz. So I walked into the bar, and saw an attractive guy who resembled Danger Dan.
"Are you Dan?" I asked.
"Nope. Are you meeting someone here?" he asked.
"Yeah. It's sort of a blind date, and I'm really late." I explained.
"You don't know what he looks like?"
"Well, he sort of looks like you. I was kind of hoping you were him. But I'm going to go over here and see if he's sitting at a table. Thanks."
So I kept looking around the bar. Then I looked in the dining area...no one was sitting alone, no one looked like Dan. Dang! It was official. I was the stander-upper.
I walk back into the bar and said to the attractive guy, "Hey, I know you aren't Dan, but would you like to be?"
"Yeah!" he replied.
I sat down next to him, ordered a "near beer", lit a cig, and began to flirt madly. I asked if he minded that I smoke. "Actually, it looks like I'm in good company," I said as I noticed his cigarettes lying on the bar. We had a smoke together as I explained to him my situation and how I think I'm an asshole because I just stood someone up. I felt so terrible! And no way to remedy the situation since I didn't have a number to call. At some point I said something funny because I remember making him laugh. (What can I say? Sometimes I'm at my best under pressure!) He asked me how I was getting set up with Danger Dan. I told him match.com. He said he had heard about online dating but didn't think it was really his style.
"Yeah, you don't need any help, do you? You've got girls just walking up to you!"
He chuckled. I asked him about the big gift bag sitting in front of him. He said it was a Christmas present from his friend. He pulled out an embroidered hand towel with "Mark" written in red script. He introduced me to the gift-giver. She was an older (drunk) lady named Carolyn (or was it Marilyn?). Anyway, they were friends. Then Mark introduced himself. "Yeah, it's Mark, I know. I saw the towel," I said and smiled. We started talking some more when...
I saw Danger Dan walk in. Whew! I wasn't the late one. Thank goodness. I thanked Mark for listening to me, said it was nice to meet him and proceeded with my original plans.
Danger Dan was surprisingly...super! He's one of those people who is really comfortable with himself, which instantly put me at ease. He had tried to call me to tell me he was running late..we had a good laugh at our confusion. He was really understanding, which I appreciated. We hit it off instantly. He tells great stories--I was laughing a lot. It was going really well, and I was definitely feeling a connection.
I excused myself to use the restroom. I had just started to uh, get situated when I heard somone call my name. What on earth...? I thought.
I came out and saw Carolyn. She said she needed to talk to me. But after I was done doing what I needed to do. Ok.....
I was washing my hands when she said she followed me to the bathroom because Mark had a good time talking to me and wanted to get my phone number. She said he was a really nice guy and he is single...etc. etc. I said, "Ok, sounds good to me! I was actually kind of hoping he was my date!" (Mark was pretty cute! I was glad to know he wasn't married or anything.) And then began a frantic search for a pen/piece of paper. This was made all the more difficult by Carolyn's drunken ramblings. "Ok, ok! Let's do this! I'm on another date!" I wanted to say to her. Of course, as luck would have it, I had neither pen nor paper. Carolyn didn't have anything with her. By this point, it was getting kind of obvious that I was taking a long time to pee, which made me panic even more. Finally I stuck my head out of the bathroom, grabbed a busboy, took his pen and jotted my work email down on the back of one of those "Buy ten, get one free" punch cards I found in my wallet. (I'm not big on giving my number out freely. Email is safer.) I shoved it in Carolyn's hand and jetted out of the bathroom.
Dan looked at me a little suspiciously. I told him a crazy drunk lady cornered me in the bathroom and made me listen to her marital problems. Which is mostly true. (I hate lying! But I really couldn't tell the truth, right?!) Dan went to the bathroom, so I took that opportunity to check my cell messages. TOTGA had called. I couldn't hear the message, and then I accidentally deleted it. Shoot! Oh well. When he came back, Dan invited me to go eat dinner with him and some of his friends, which I normally would have done, but I thought I had dinner plans with TOTGA.
Soon Dan and I left. I didn't get a chance to make eye contact with Mark before leaving. I didn't really have any good opportunities. I'm hoping that won't deter him!
Being a playa is hard work!!!
I called TOTGA back, but got his voice mail. I left a message, but he never called me back. I guess what goes around comes around.
I can't believe I just quoted Big Pun in my blog. I'm really exposing my terrible taste in music right now. Anyway, the playa I'm referring to here would be.....me. Let me explain...
Last night I was running late to meet Danger Dan. I wanted to call him to tell him I was running late, but I had left his number in my other purse. Then I realized he didn't have my cell number, just my work number. Oops. Oh well. So, I got to the bar where we were planning on meeting, and by then I was 10-15 minutes late. I felt really bad--you should be on time for first dates! Or at least call! I'm such a spaz. So I walked into the bar, and saw an attractive guy who resembled Danger Dan.
"Are you Dan?" I asked.
"Nope. Are you meeting someone here?" he asked.
"Yeah. It's sort of a blind date, and I'm really late." I explained.
"You don't know what he looks like?"
"Well, he sort of looks like you. I was kind of hoping you were him. But I'm going to go over here and see if he's sitting at a table. Thanks."
So I kept looking around the bar. Then I looked in the dining area...no one was sitting alone, no one looked like Dan. Dang! It was official. I was the stander-upper.
I walk back into the bar and said to the attractive guy, "Hey, I know you aren't Dan, but would you like to be?"
"Yeah!" he replied.
I sat down next to him, ordered a "near beer", lit a cig, and began to flirt madly. I asked if he minded that I smoke. "Actually, it looks like I'm in good company," I said as I noticed his cigarettes lying on the bar. We had a smoke together as I explained to him my situation and how I think I'm an asshole because I just stood someone up. I felt so terrible! And no way to remedy the situation since I didn't have a number to call. At some point I said something funny because I remember making him laugh. (What can I say? Sometimes I'm at my best under pressure!) He asked me how I was getting set up with Danger Dan. I told him match.com. He said he had heard about online dating but didn't think it was really his style.
"Yeah, you don't need any help, do you? You've got girls just walking up to you!"
He chuckled. I asked him about the big gift bag sitting in front of him. He said it was a Christmas present from his friend. He pulled out an embroidered hand towel with "Mark" written in red script. He introduced me to the gift-giver. She was an older (drunk) lady named Carolyn (or was it Marilyn?). Anyway, they were friends. Then Mark introduced himself. "Yeah, it's Mark, I know. I saw the towel," I said and smiled. We started talking some more when...
I saw Danger Dan walk in. Whew! I wasn't the late one. Thank goodness. I thanked Mark for listening to me, said it was nice to meet him and proceeded with my original plans.
Danger Dan was surprisingly...super! He's one of those people who is really comfortable with himself, which instantly put me at ease. He had tried to call me to tell me he was running late..we had a good laugh at our confusion. He was really understanding, which I appreciated. We hit it off instantly. He tells great stories--I was laughing a lot. It was going really well, and I was definitely feeling a connection.
I excused myself to use the restroom. I had just started to uh, get situated when I heard somone call my name. What on earth...? I thought.
I came out and saw Carolyn. She said she needed to talk to me. But after I was done doing what I needed to do. Ok.....
I was washing my hands when she said she followed me to the bathroom because Mark had a good time talking to me and wanted to get my phone number. She said he was a really nice guy and he is single...etc. etc. I said, "Ok, sounds good to me! I was actually kind of hoping he was my date!" (Mark was pretty cute! I was glad to know he wasn't married or anything.) And then began a frantic search for a pen/piece of paper. This was made all the more difficult by Carolyn's drunken ramblings. "Ok, ok! Let's do this! I'm on another date!" I wanted to say to her. Of course, as luck would have it, I had neither pen nor paper. Carolyn didn't have anything with her. By this point, it was getting kind of obvious that I was taking a long time to pee, which made me panic even more. Finally I stuck my head out of the bathroom, grabbed a busboy, took his pen and jotted my work email down on the back of one of those "Buy ten, get one free" punch cards I found in my wallet. (I'm not big on giving my number out freely. Email is safer.) I shoved it in Carolyn's hand and jetted out of the bathroom.
Dan looked at me a little suspiciously. I told him a crazy drunk lady cornered me in the bathroom and made me listen to her marital problems. Which is mostly true. (I hate lying! But I really couldn't tell the truth, right?!) Dan went to the bathroom, so I took that opportunity to check my cell messages. TOTGA had called. I couldn't hear the message, and then I accidentally deleted it. Shoot! Oh well. When he came back, Dan invited me to go eat dinner with him and some of his friends, which I normally would have done, but I thought I had dinner plans with TOTGA.
Soon Dan and I left. I didn't get a chance to make eye contact with Mark before leaving. I didn't really have any good opportunities. I'm hoping that won't deter him!
Being a playa is hard work!!!
I called TOTGA back, but got his voice mail. I left a message, but he never called me back. I guess what goes around comes around.
Friday, December 09, 2005
Deleted Scenes (formerly Minor Updates)
Just realized there are some little things I haven't told you guys...
I went and saw the IU Basketball game last week with SWG (remember him?). We met up at Bailey's, a good sports bar here in Columbia. Although IU lost (I hate stupid Duke--sorry, Blonde Nurse! I know you're a fan.) to Duke by about 5 points, that was not really the worst part of the evening. Yet again, SWG asked me absolutely no questions. Nothing at all indicated that he wished to get to know me better. In fact, he hardly looked at me. He watched and commented on the game the entire time. I kept wanting to ask him, "Um, why did you agree to do this? You obviously aren't enjoying my company. Although, you wouldn't know if you do since you haven't asked me a single question." and I thought to myself, "Why don't I leave and go watch this at home?" Situations like this really tick me off, so of course, in my own little vindictive way, I wanted him to be ticked off too. So I bought some cigarettes and proceeded so light one up, saying, "You don't mind if I smoke, do you?" And he just got this fairly annoyed look on his face and went back to the game. I wanted to announce to the entire bar, "Trust me, if you were on this date, you'd be smoking too." Another example of male behavior I just don't get.
MIA did bring me soup yesterday. It was made from scratch and it was delicious. He stayed and talked to me for about a half hour and then he left. He had to drive about 35 minutes to get to my house, so he scored some brownies points, I have to say. He also told me that he is currently dating someone who lives in another town, but it isn't going well. I thanked him for his honesty because really, he never had to tell me that. But it does make me a little hesitant to start anything with him, because I think he's been dating her for a while. It would be different if he was just casually seeing her, but this is at least a 2 month thing. So for now, he will have to stay in the friend zone. But it's really more of a holding-pen at this point. :)
I talked to The Pharmacist last night. I mentioned him in a previous post, but I didn't give him a nickname. He is the very first guy I met face-to-face via match.com. He is sorta-kinda losing his hair, which I don't really go for, but he is so sweet--he helps his elderly neighbor with her groceries! How can you not love the guy?! And we have pretty good conversations, so I think I may give him another shot. He will at least have a solid position in TFZ (The Friend Zone).
Last night I called Danger Dan to set up our time & place for a happy hour drink today. He has a Mickey Mouse voice. This does not bode well. I'm glad I only committed to drinks. A review will be coming shortly...
I'm supposed to be going out to dinner with The One That Got Away tonight. Just as friends, I assure you. We haven't seen each other in several months, so it's a catch-up sort of thing. After dealing with the men I've been dealing with lately, I really need to sit across a table from an attractive man who knows how to flirt. Even if nothing comes from it.
I can't go out and play tonight because I have to work Saturday morning. :( It's just for three hours, so it's not a big deal. Then I'll probably hit the gym, come home to watch the game (Go Hoosiers!!) and make some plans for going out. Sunday (or Saturday night) I'm going to Charleston with K, my coworker. She is super cool. I just love her to pieces. Her boyfriend lives down there, and he has a friend he wants to set me up with. So that should be a good time.
(Note to DD: K's boyfriend is in the Navy, as is his buddy. The boyfriend is getting shipped off to "Sandy Eggo" in May! Small world!)
I went and saw the IU Basketball game last week with SWG (remember him?). We met up at Bailey's, a good sports bar here in Columbia. Although IU lost (I hate stupid Duke--sorry, Blonde Nurse! I know you're a fan.) to Duke by about 5 points, that was not really the worst part of the evening. Yet again, SWG asked me absolutely no questions. Nothing at all indicated that he wished to get to know me better. In fact, he hardly looked at me. He watched and commented on the game the entire time. I kept wanting to ask him, "Um, why did you agree to do this? You obviously aren't enjoying my company. Although, you wouldn't know if you do since you haven't asked me a single question." and I thought to myself, "Why don't I leave and go watch this at home?" Situations like this really tick me off, so of course, in my own little vindictive way, I wanted him to be ticked off too. So I bought some cigarettes and proceeded so light one up, saying, "You don't mind if I smoke, do you?" And he just got this fairly annoyed look on his face and went back to the game. I wanted to announce to the entire bar, "Trust me, if you were on this date, you'd be smoking too." Another example of male behavior I just don't get.
MIA did bring me soup yesterday. It was made from scratch and it was delicious. He stayed and talked to me for about a half hour and then he left. He had to drive about 35 minutes to get to my house, so he scored some brownies points, I have to say. He also told me that he is currently dating someone who lives in another town, but it isn't going well. I thanked him for his honesty because really, he never had to tell me that. But it does make me a little hesitant to start anything with him, because I think he's been dating her for a while. It would be different if he was just casually seeing her, but this is at least a 2 month thing. So for now, he will have to stay in the friend zone. But it's really more of a holding-pen at this point. :)
I talked to The Pharmacist last night. I mentioned him in a previous post, but I didn't give him a nickname. He is the very first guy I met face-to-face via match.com. He is sorta-kinda losing his hair, which I don't really go for, but he is so sweet--he helps his elderly neighbor with her groceries! How can you not love the guy?! And we have pretty good conversations, so I think I may give him another shot. He will at least have a solid position in TFZ (The Friend Zone).
Last night I called Danger Dan to set up our time & place for a happy hour drink today. He has a Mickey Mouse voice. This does not bode well. I'm glad I only committed to drinks. A review will be coming shortly...
I'm supposed to be going out to dinner with The One That Got Away tonight. Just as friends, I assure you. We haven't seen each other in several months, so it's a catch-up sort of thing. After dealing with the men I've been dealing with lately, I really need to sit across a table from an attractive man who knows how to flirt. Even if nothing comes from it.
I can't go out and play tonight because I have to work Saturday morning. :( It's just for three hours, so it's not a big deal. Then I'll probably hit the gym, come home to watch the game (Go Hoosiers!!) and make some plans for going out. Sunday (or Saturday night) I'm going to Charleston with K, my coworker. She is super cool. I just love her to pieces. Her boyfriend lives down there, and he has a friend he wants to set me up with. So that should be a good time.
(Note to DD: K's boyfriend is in the Navy, as is his buddy. The boyfriend is getting shipped off to "Sandy Eggo" in May! Small world!)
Thursday, December 08, 2005
Hotmail Hostility
Ever meet someone and instantly get why they are single? Normally I would not quote directly from match.com emails, but this guy is such an asshole, I think he probably deserves this. Below is a word-for-word record of the emails we have had:
Him: [In reference to my being a librarian] I was wondering if you could....you know, just once....and fulfill a fantasy of mine?
Me: Does this approach usually work with women?
Him: Well, I don't know. That's a very expansive question. I'm just asking you to have a drink with me? [sic]
Me: [ignoring his misuse of basic punctuation] Actually, I don't do long distance relationships. I'm sorry. I hope you understand. [If he had read my profile, he would know this.]
Him: GFYS
Me: Ok, I don't know what your problem is, but that was really rude and uncalled for. I just don't do long distance. I'm sorry that upsets you. It wasn't my goal or anything. In case you are wondering why you are single, my guess is it's because you act like that. Grow up!
Him: Oh, how Marcia Brady of you! You see, even as a kid, I went for THE WRONG WOMEN. I think that's my problem. When my mother took me to see Snow White, everyone else fell for Snow White. I fell for the WICKED QUEEN!!!!!!!
[end of emails. Please note that he is apparently quite fond of this little Snow White bit. He says the same thing in his profile.]
So, if anyone out there can think of something really hilarious to reply with, please tell me. Although, I probably should let it go. I just can't believe his attitude. What makes guys act like this--come to think of it, what would make anyone act like this? I don't think anyone has ever told me to go F myself. I have done some jerkoff moves before, but I honestly don't think this makes the top 10 list or anything. Gosh, you'd think I killed his firstborn child. This is seriously undeserved, I think. He has some issues to work out, doesn't he? Was I rude? Why am I being punished for being honest? I do believe it's within my rights to say I don't want to fool with a long distance relationship. He should not take this personally. I don't make exceptions to this rule. I tell ya, it's a jungle out here in the land of e-dating!
Him: [In reference to my being a librarian] I was wondering if you could....you know, just once....and fulfill a fantasy of mine?
Me: Does this approach usually work with women?
Him: Well, I don't know. That's a very expansive question. I'm just asking you to have a drink with me? [sic]
Me: [ignoring his misuse of basic punctuation] Actually, I don't do long distance relationships. I'm sorry. I hope you understand. [If he had read my profile, he would know this.]
Him: GFYS
Me: Ok, I don't know what your problem is, but that was really rude and uncalled for. I just don't do long distance. I'm sorry that upsets you. It wasn't my goal or anything. In case you are wondering why you are single, my guess is it's because you act like that. Grow up!
Him: Oh, how Marcia Brady of you! You see, even as a kid, I went for THE WRONG WOMEN. I think that's my problem. When my mother took me to see Snow White, everyone else fell for Snow White. I fell for the WICKED QUEEN!!!!!!!
[end of emails. Please note that he is apparently quite fond of this little Snow White bit. He says the same thing in his profile.]
So, if anyone out there can think of something really hilarious to reply with, please tell me. Although, I probably should let it go. I just can't believe his attitude. What makes guys act like this--come to think of it, what would make anyone act like this? I don't think anyone has ever told me to go F myself. I have done some jerkoff moves before, but I honestly don't think this makes the top 10 list or anything. Gosh, you'd think I killed his firstborn child. This is seriously undeserved, I think. He has some issues to work out, doesn't he? Was I rude? Why am I being punished for being honest? I do believe it's within my rights to say I don't want to fool with a long distance relationship. He should not take this personally. I don't make exceptions to this rule. I tell ya, it's a jungle out here in the land of e-dating!
The Sick Day & The Eccentric Aunt
Ug. I don't feel so hot. I just want to lay on my couch and veg. But I have so much to share--the blog must go on!
Last night MIA started texting me at 11:15pm. I am a firm believer that anyone who only texts after a certain time of day wants one thing only. He wanted to know if I was mad at him. I texted that I'm tired of late night drunk texting and I didn't think it was too much to ask to be called on the phone and asked out for a real date. Basically, cut the crap and put your money where your mouth is. Then I went to bed. This morning I got up to find 3 new texts and 4 new phone calls. They were all from him. Oh. My. God. I could tell from the messages that he felt really bad, so I called him to explain myself a little better since I was pretty sure this was just a miscommunication. So I explained to him that if he is really interested in me, he would call me, not text me, and ask me out rather than drunk dial me. He apologized and said that was not what he was trying to do. Then he offered to bring me some soup since I was sick. I said ok. That's what I'm waiting for right now. Otherwise I'd be asleep. I think he is actually making it from scratch, which is earning him mad crazy brownie points....I'll keep you posted.
In other news, I would like to introduce my best friend to this blog. She finally has Internet access after a long hiatus and so she will undoubtedly be leaving comments. She probably the funniest person I know. That's why I keep her around. Even though she calls me Madam Scrotum Snatch. She does this because it annoys me as there is NO REASON to call me this. In my defense, I call her Lady Starfish. So that is her nickname on this blog.
Also, I need to tell you about my aunt. Everyone has an eccentric aunt. Mine went abroad her junior year of college and has yet to return. She is in her fifties. She lives in Europe. She has a rather glamorous lifestyle when compared to her sister (my mom). Both of them are total control freaks. (But I still love them! My mom is awesome!) I don't know my aunt all that well, so I was surprised when she randomly emailed me the other day. Here is the important info from the email:
1. She was at a wedding where she met a young guy and his mother.
2. The son is a real estate mogul and the mother was some big power-suit wearing CEO of Palmolive. (Yeah, the dishwashing liquid). Now she is retired. But she has a book. One of them lives in Charleston--an hour or so from me.
3. My aunt made sure to tell them that I am dating someone so the son would not think I'm meeting him for dating purposes. (are you seeing where this is going?)
4. Auntie is getting the mother to send me a copy of her CEO businesswoman's guide book so that I may read it. (I have absolutely no desire to be a CEO businesswoman. Nor have I ever expressed any desire to do so.)
5. Apparently, I will be meeting the mother and/or son sometime soon because Auntie wants the son to talk to me about getting into the real estate business. (Again, I have never expressed any interest in this career path.)
6. Auntie is even sending me money to buy a new outfit to wear when I meet them.
Are you scratching your head yet? Because I am. Is it a romantic fix-up? Is it a career guidance session? Do I get any say in my own adult life? Because last time I checked, I thought I was capable of making my own decisions. Or at least having a say in the ones she makes concerning my life! I'm not unhappy, so I don't see this as help, really, just interference. Do all eccentric aunts do this or just mine? Do I have a right to find this rude? What do I say when they ask about my boyfriend? I'm tempted to make up one who is incredibly handsome and totally in love with me. How do I fake interest in career fields which hold no appeal to me? Keep in mind I do not know how old the guy is or even if he is single. If this goes badly, she might get mad at me. Great. Anyone taking bets yet as to how awkward this is going to be for me?? Any advice or opinions would be much appreciated. But in any case, it sounds like good news for my hands, whether it's a lifetime supply of Palmolive or a shiny diamond ring! (Just kidding. I just noticed the irony in this situation.)
Last night MIA started texting me at 11:15pm. I am a firm believer that anyone who only texts after a certain time of day wants one thing only. He wanted to know if I was mad at him. I texted that I'm tired of late night drunk texting and I didn't think it was too much to ask to be called on the phone and asked out for a real date. Basically, cut the crap and put your money where your mouth is. Then I went to bed. This morning I got up to find 3 new texts and 4 new phone calls. They were all from him. Oh. My. God. I could tell from the messages that he felt really bad, so I called him to explain myself a little better since I was pretty sure this was just a miscommunication. So I explained to him that if he is really interested in me, he would call me, not text me, and ask me out rather than drunk dial me. He apologized and said that was not what he was trying to do. Then he offered to bring me some soup since I was sick. I said ok. That's what I'm waiting for right now. Otherwise I'd be asleep. I think he is actually making it from scratch, which is earning him mad crazy brownie points....I'll keep you posted.
In other news, I would like to introduce my best friend to this blog. She finally has Internet access after a long hiatus and so she will undoubtedly be leaving comments. She probably the funniest person I know. That's why I keep her around. Even though she calls me Madam Scrotum Snatch. She does this because it annoys me as there is NO REASON to call me this. In my defense, I call her Lady Starfish. So that is her nickname on this blog.
Also, I need to tell you about my aunt. Everyone has an eccentric aunt. Mine went abroad her junior year of college and has yet to return. She is in her fifties. She lives in Europe. She has a rather glamorous lifestyle when compared to her sister (my mom). Both of them are total control freaks. (But I still love them! My mom is awesome!) I don't know my aunt all that well, so I was surprised when she randomly emailed me the other day. Here is the important info from the email:
1. She was at a wedding where she met a young guy and his mother.
2. The son is a real estate mogul and the mother was some big power-suit wearing CEO of Palmolive. (Yeah, the dishwashing liquid). Now she is retired. But she has a book. One of them lives in Charleston--an hour or so from me.
3. My aunt made sure to tell them that I am dating someone so the son would not think I'm meeting him for dating purposes. (are you seeing where this is going?)
4. Auntie is getting the mother to send me a copy of her CEO businesswoman's guide book so that I may read it. (I have absolutely no desire to be a CEO businesswoman. Nor have I ever expressed any desire to do so.)
5. Apparently, I will be meeting the mother and/or son sometime soon because Auntie wants the son to talk to me about getting into the real estate business. (Again, I have never expressed any interest in this career path.)
6. Auntie is even sending me money to buy a new outfit to wear when I meet them.
Are you scratching your head yet? Because I am. Is it a romantic fix-up? Is it a career guidance session? Do I get any say in my own adult life? Because last time I checked, I thought I was capable of making my own decisions. Or at least having a say in the ones she makes concerning my life! I'm not unhappy, so I don't see this as help, really, just interference. Do all eccentric aunts do this or just mine? Do I have a right to find this rude? What do I say when they ask about my boyfriend? I'm tempted to make up one who is incredibly handsome and totally in love with me. How do I fake interest in career fields which hold no appeal to me? Keep in mind I do not know how old the guy is or even if he is single. If this goes badly, she might get mad at me. Great. Anyone taking bets yet as to how awkward this is going to be for me?? Any advice or opinions would be much appreciated. But in any case, it sounds like good news for my hands, whether it's a lifetime supply of Palmolive or a shiny diamond ring! (Just kidding. I just noticed the irony in this situation.)
Wednesday, December 07, 2005
The Match, part 2
Continuing on with the dating discussion...I will try to reply to everyone's comments in here somewhere...here goes.
First off, XY, this is all very easy for you to say considering you are married and don't have to deal with any of this. But I am not saying I don't respect your opinion. You know I trust it very much. I'm just saying, be glad this isn't your life. If it were, you might be a little whiny too.
I think what is most frustrating to me is that the "real life in the flesh" Virginia Belle never gets approached, and if I do, it is by a drunk/older/redneck guy, like I said. (It is sad to say this, but they are not skeeving me out as much as they used to! I'm starting to be flattered instead of annoyed! Help!) On the other hand, "virtual" VB, whose profile is on match.com, is beating them off with a baseball bat. I get about 40 winks a day--no joke. What gives? I'm flattered electronically, but ignored in reality. So, I'm only good in theory. I'm the same friggin person! How am I better on (virtual) paper than in real life? It's not even a very good picture of me. Maybe it's because on match.com you basically have a sign around your neck saying, "Yes! I'm single! Approach me with minimal rejection risk!" That must be it. Email rejections must be easier to take for men. I still say, rejection is rejection, period. You can put a pretty little bow on it if you want--it still hurts. But anything worth having is worth a risk, right?
I will say that guys have it hard out there. I know it must be very hard to approach someone cold. So I feel their pain, I really do. But I have mad respect for it. Nothing is hotter than a guy with cojones. Nothing. And no matter how repulsive you are, no matter how much she doesn't want to admit it, every girl, deep down inside is at least a little bit flattered. She thinks, "Yes! I've still got it!" That is why I try and always be very nice when men do this, even if I'm not interested. I don't want to discourage them from doing it again to someone who is more receptive! (That's like faking it in bed--why promote bad behavior???)
But, as Stuckey so wisely observed, women have their problems too. I don't know how it is in other parts of the country, but down here, there is still a lot of chivalry going on (thank goodness!!!) and most girls I know are very old-fashioned, ie, you won't catch them dead asking a guy out. I am one of those girls. Like I said, I tried it. Never again. So this leaves many of us as the passive members of the dating world. At least men can keep shooting until they hit something. We women are but deer in the forest. But I like it that way--it feels more natural when the guy does the hunting, at least at first. So I guess I'm happy with the system, I'm just impatient!
I'm glad to know that many guys down here are intimidated by NYC-type women (which, I am guessing means SATC-type girls?). Whew! That is a relief. Because let me tell you, that lifestyle is hard to maintain! And for the record, not every girl is looking for a Wall Street type of guy. (VB is also in this group.)
There is something called "The Prom Girl Theory". I think I read about it on Dating Dummy. This theory states that the pretty girls in high school don't get asked to prom because everyone thinks they must already have a date. While I don't want to come out and say that this directly applies to me *ahem*, I do think there is something to this. I have had people say to me that they assumed I was seeing someone and that is why they didn't hit on me. News flash for men: *If you don't see a ring, go for it! Ask and you could very well receive!* Or gosh, Einstein, how about you ask her friends if she is single? I would think it would be worse for guys to know they missed an opportunity, but apparently not.
I think I need to explain a little more about my being shy. My mom thinks that I'm unapproachable because I don't have a perma-grin on my face. I think that is silly because who does that? I'd look like an idiot. That is not to say I don't try and smile more when I'm out--I do think that "happy=approachable". Plus, going out usually puts me in a good mood anyway. But sometimes, I get smacked upside my head by the Shy Fairy. It could be because I can't think of anything good to say, I feel the need to have a warm-up session, I could have been caught off guard, I'm feeling very self conscious (this is especially true at the gym, where I never make eye contact!), the guy could be really hot, or my self-esteem that day is just a little on the low side. Whatever the reason, this happens sometimes. I completely choke. So the guy leaves thinking I'm not interested/boring/snobby. When really, I want to run after him yelling, "No, wait! Can you come back tomorrow and try it again?!" Then I go home, cry and beat my head against a wall. Just kidding. But I kinda want to.
Oh, and girls are so onto you guys about beer and football. Some girls really do like it. I love college basketball. I am starting to get into college football. Now, I may not always know what's going on, but I'm smart enough to wait until the commercials come on before asking ten questions. I do not mind watching any game/fight/man movie, because it usually means I'm allowed to fall asleep in the guy's lap if I want. As far as the beer goes, many of you know I do not drink alcohol. Ever. But I'm really big on spoiling men, so I will always be happy to get up and get you one. :) And I think it is only fair that we suffer through these sporting events, because we do drag you guys to chick flicks. Good call, XY.
I think that we can all say that men are stupid in their way (thinking below the belt) and women are stupid in their way (putting up with jerks who choke them, for example). I'm pretty sure that those women are suffering from poor self-esteem, but I wonder if men tend to think below the belt for the same reason? Do some guys feel they don't have anything else to offer? What am I saying! Men are just horny. News flash for men: *Some women are too. Very much so.* I can think of three off the top of my head. But they will remain nameless to protect the innocent. *ahem*.
But back to those women who settle or put up with crap. Guys, this is where women are stupid. But the good news is, we grow out of it when we get tired of it. And 90% of women do eventually get tired of it. Any girl who puts up with an asshole has never been really really hurt. She is stubborn and has to be burned on the stove before realizing that it's not a toy. Just be patient. She'll figure it out. (She may have to do this several times with different men, btw.) This is where it is a good strategy to "be there for her" and one of the few times when being in the Friend Zone can really pay off in the long run. With each relationship injury, she will come back stronger and smarter. And wouldn't you rather date that version?
And I'm sticking to my guns about my statement that some guys are too busy hooking up with sluts to give nice girls the time of day because they don't want to deal with being in a real relationship. I understand! Relationships are hard. But, as I said before, anything worth having is worth putting yourself at risk to obtain it. Unfortunately, the sluts still have the upper hand. I know guys will stay with women because they put out! Don't deny it, male readers! Guys have confessed this to me! Each one of you has wasted time dating (and I use the term "dating" loosely here) a girl you didn't really like as a person because she was
a) the only ninth grader who was not in the V Club
b) really great in bed
c) a warm body to snuggle with and you were lonely
d) a good cook
e) horny all the time and lived out of town so you only had to deal with her occasionally--all the good, none of the bad!
f) really drunk and hit on you
News flash for men: *Choices b)-f) apply to lots of nice, attractive girls! And without drama! And sometimes we are funny and smart to boot! We may even be someone good to introduce to your mom! Give us a chance. Relationships might actually be fun. What a concept.* But I'm picking on you guys. I am not a man hater by any means. Quite the contrary. I think men are generally very funny and sweet and easy to be around. I am a man fan. Plus, I really like ogling you at the gym--watching guys do pull-ups is my porn. That is so hot....[VB daydreams for a moment...]
Oh, and before anyone makes a comment about this, I do give nice guys a chance! Heck, I take whatever I can get at this point! I refuse to lower my standards, but I am conscious of the "sleepers" ie, nice guys. I am much more open-minded than I used to be about this (Yes, I was burned pretty badly). But I stick to my "three strikes and you're out" policy.
And I don't think Italian women are any competition at all (that is not to say that XX isn't ravishing, because she is definitely a hottie!!). I don't see any woman as competition. To me, it's apples and oranges. Somewhere, there is a guy who is looking for me. Not Cindy Crawford, not Tyra Banks, not Pamela Anderson. Me. Just me. And when he meets me, he will think, "Oh my God. She totally does it for me. All other women are suddenly invisible." Do models and prettier girls lower my self-esteem? Sure. But only for about 5 seconds because I know that she deserves to be happy as much as I do and she doesn't hold the same cards as I do. Some of hers are probably better, like her size 4 jeans, but I'm sure I have some card she envies, too. So who wins? It doesn't really matter because we aren't trying to win the same hands. Those girls are looking for totally different jackpots. (How's that for a metaphor?!)
I'm looking forward to Team Richardson's next podcast on Columbia Chatterbox. I like the "If you can only afford Wal-Mart, why are you shopping at Saks?" question. I think a lot of guys and girls do this. Heck, look at the drunk/older/redneck guys that talk to me. You have to date in your league. Otherwise you are just setting yourself up for disappointment.
So far, few agree with me, but I don't think this town has much to offer in the way of a large pool of datees. I get a lot of, "Oh, I know a great guy for you! But he lives in Superfar Town." Thanks, but that doesn't help. I don't do long distance. I think there are a lot of married couples in Columbia, although there are pockets of singles. I have met many of them. I looked through match.com and found that I've already "e-met" just about everyone on there I care to. Like the natives of Easter Island, I have used all my natural resources, leaving me with an uninhabitable environment, full of little besides mysterious men and unanswered questions. Which is why, like they did, I've been thinking seriously of moving to a bigger island, ie, Richmond, Va. I have heard they have a truckload of singles there. I know, I only need one hot awesome single guy, but towns like that only improve my odds! I'm reaching for my paddle...in the hopes of discovering some coconuts...ha ha. I'm such a perv.
Oh, and for the record, I'm not looking for men in bars. I'm looking for men everywhere I go all day long. Duh! :) I go to bookstores and parks like I said. I check out guys at bars, the mall, the bank, the grocery store, at football games, at stoplights and at the gym. And there are a surprising number of hotties at my Wal-Mart...(I can't wait to see how this plays into your metaphor!) There must be an underground cavern of men nearby!
And with that, I will leave you to ponder and reply...
First off, XY, this is all very easy for you to say considering you are married and don't have to deal with any of this. But I am not saying I don't respect your opinion. You know I trust it very much. I'm just saying, be glad this isn't your life. If it were, you might be a little whiny too.
I think what is most frustrating to me is that the "real life in the flesh" Virginia Belle never gets approached, and if I do, it is by a drunk/older/redneck guy, like I said. (It is sad to say this, but they are not skeeving me out as much as they used to! I'm starting to be flattered instead of annoyed! Help!) On the other hand, "virtual" VB, whose profile is on match.com, is beating them off with a baseball bat. I get about 40 winks a day--no joke. What gives? I'm flattered electronically, but ignored in reality. So, I'm only good in theory. I'm the same friggin person! How am I better on (virtual) paper than in real life? It's not even a very good picture of me. Maybe it's because on match.com you basically have a sign around your neck saying, "Yes! I'm single! Approach me with minimal rejection risk!" That must be it. Email rejections must be easier to take for men. I still say, rejection is rejection, period. You can put a pretty little bow on it if you want--it still hurts. But anything worth having is worth a risk, right?
I will say that guys have it hard out there. I know it must be very hard to approach someone cold. So I feel their pain, I really do. But I have mad respect for it. Nothing is hotter than a guy with cojones. Nothing. And no matter how repulsive you are, no matter how much she doesn't want to admit it, every girl, deep down inside is at least a little bit flattered. She thinks, "Yes! I've still got it!" That is why I try and always be very nice when men do this, even if I'm not interested. I don't want to discourage them from doing it again to someone who is more receptive! (That's like faking it in bed--why promote bad behavior???)
But, as Stuckey so wisely observed, women have their problems too. I don't know how it is in other parts of the country, but down here, there is still a lot of chivalry going on (thank goodness!!!) and most girls I know are very old-fashioned, ie, you won't catch them dead asking a guy out. I am one of those girls. Like I said, I tried it. Never again. So this leaves many of us as the passive members of the dating world. At least men can keep shooting until they hit something. We women are but deer in the forest. But I like it that way--it feels more natural when the guy does the hunting, at least at first. So I guess I'm happy with the system, I'm just impatient!
I'm glad to know that many guys down here are intimidated by NYC-type women (which, I am guessing means SATC-type girls?). Whew! That is a relief. Because let me tell you, that lifestyle is hard to maintain! And for the record, not every girl is looking for a Wall Street type of guy. (VB is also in this group.)
There is something called "The Prom Girl Theory". I think I read about it on Dating Dummy. This theory states that the pretty girls in high school don't get asked to prom because everyone thinks they must already have a date. While I don't want to come out and say that this directly applies to me *ahem*, I do think there is something to this. I have had people say to me that they assumed I was seeing someone and that is why they didn't hit on me. News flash for men: *If you don't see a ring, go for it! Ask and you could very well receive!* Or gosh, Einstein, how about you ask her friends if she is single? I would think it would be worse for guys to know they missed an opportunity, but apparently not.
I think I need to explain a little more about my being shy. My mom thinks that I'm unapproachable because I don't have a perma-grin on my face. I think that is silly because who does that? I'd look like an idiot. That is not to say I don't try and smile more when I'm out--I do think that "happy=approachable". Plus, going out usually puts me in a good mood anyway. But sometimes, I get smacked upside my head by the Shy Fairy. It could be because I can't think of anything good to say, I feel the need to have a warm-up session, I could have been caught off guard, I'm feeling very self conscious (this is especially true at the gym, where I never make eye contact!), the guy could be really hot, or my self-esteem that day is just a little on the low side. Whatever the reason, this happens sometimes. I completely choke. So the guy leaves thinking I'm not interested/boring/snobby. When really, I want to run after him yelling, "No, wait! Can you come back tomorrow and try it again?!" Then I go home, cry and beat my head against a wall. Just kidding. But I kinda want to.
Oh, and girls are so onto you guys about beer and football. Some girls really do like it. I love college basketball. I am starting to get into college football. Now, I may not always know what's going on, but I'm smart enough to wait until the commercials come on before asking ten questions. I do not mind watching any game/fight/man movie, because it usually means I'm allowed to fall asleep in the guy's lap if I want. As far as the beer goes, many of you know I do not drink alcohol. Ever. But I'm really big on spoiling men, so I will always be happy to get up and get you one. :) And I think it is only fair that we suffer through these sporting events, because we do drag you guys to chick flicks. Good call, XY.
I think that we can all say that men are stupid in their way (thinking below the belt) and women are stupid in their way (putting up with jerks who choke them, for example). I'm pretty sure that those women are suffering from poor self-esteem, but I wonder if men tend to think below the belt for the same reason? Do some guys feel they don't have anything else to offer? What am I saying! Men are just horny. News flash for men: *Some women are too. Very much so.* I can think of three off the top of my head. But they will remain nameless to protect the innocent. *ahem*.
But back to those women who settle or put up with crap. Guys, this is where women are stupid. But the good news is, we grow out of it when we get tired of it. And 90% of women do eventually get tired of it. Any girl who puts up with an asshole has never been really really hurt. She is stubborn and has to be burned on the stove before realizing that it's not a toy. Just be patient. She'll figure it out. (She may have to do this several times with different men, btw.) This is where it is a good strategy to "be there for her" and one of the few times when being in the Friend Zone can really pay off in the long run. With each relationship injury, she will come back stronger and smarter. And wouldn't you rather date that version?
And I'm sticking to my guns about my statement that some guys are too busy hooking up with sluts to give nice girls the time of day because they don't want to deal with being in a real relationship. I understand! Relationships are hard. But, as I said before, anything worth having is worth putting yourself at risk to obtain it. Unfortunately, the sluts still have the upper hand. I know guys will stay with women because they put out! Don't deny it, male readers! Guys have confessed this to me! Each one of you has wasted time dating (and I use the term "dating" loosely here) a girl you didn't really like as a person because she was
a) the only ninth grader who was not in the V Club
b) really great in bed
c) a warm body to snuggle with and you were lonely
d) a good cook
e) horny all the time and lived out of town so you only had to deal with her occasionally--all the good, none of the bad!
f) really drunk and hit on you
News flash for men: *Choices b)-f) apply to lots of nice, attractive girls! And without drama! And sometimes we are funny and smart to boot! We may even be someone good to introduce to your mom! Give us a chance. Relationships might actually be fun. What a concept.* But I'm picking on you guys. I am not a man hater by any means. Quite the contrary. I think men are generally very funny and sweet and easy to be around. I am a man fan. Plus, I really like ogling you at the gym--watching guys do pull-ups is my porn. That is so hot....[VB daydreams for a moment...]
Oh, and before anyone makes a comment about this, I do give nice guys a chance! Heck, I take whatever I can get at this point! I refuse to lower my standards, but I am conscious of the "sleepers" ie, nice guys. I am much more open-minded than I used to be about this (Yes, I was burned pretty badly). But I stick to my "three strikes and you're out" policy.
And I don't think Italian women are any competition at all (that is not to say that XX isn't ravishing, because she is definitely a hottie!!). I don't see any woman as competition. To me, it's apples and oranges. Somewhere, there is a guy who is looking for me. Not Cindy Crawford, not Tyra Banks, not Pamela Anderson. Me. Just me. And when he meets me, he will think, "Oh my God. She totally does it for me. All other women are suddenly invisible." Do models and prettier girls lower my self-esteem? Sure. But only for about 5 seconds because I know that she deserves to be happy as much as I do and she doesn't hold the same cards as I do. Some of hers are probably better, like her size 4 jeans, but I'm sure I have some card she envies, too. So who wins? It doesn't really matter because we aren't trying to win the same hands. Those girls are looking for totally different jackpots. (How's that for a metaphor?!)
I'm looking forward to Team Richardson's next podcast on Columbia Chatterbox. I like the "If you can only afford Wal-Mart, why are you shopping at Saks?" question. I think a lot of guys and girls do this. Heck, look at the drunk/older/redneck guys that talk to me. You have to date in your league. Otherwise you are just setting yourself up for disappointment.
So far, few agree with me, but I don't think this town has much to offer in the way of a large pool of datees. I get a lot of, "Oh, I know a great guy for you! But he lives in Superfar Town." Thanks, but that doesn't help. I don't do long distance. I think there are a lot of married couples in Columbia, although there are pockets of singles. I have met many of them. I looked through match.com and found that I've already "e-met" just about everyone on there I care to. Like the natives of Easter Island, I have used all my natural resources, leaving me with an uninhabitable environment, full of little besides mysterious men and unanswered questions. Which is why, like they did, I've been thinking seriously of moving to a bigger island, ie, Richmond, Va. I have heard they have a truckload of singles there. I know, I only need one hot awesome single guy, but towns like that only improve my odds! I'm reaching for my paddle...in the hopes of discovering some coconuts...ha ha. I'm such a perv.
Oh, and for the record, I'm not looking for men in bars. I'm looking for men everywhere I go all day long. Duh! :) I go to bookstores and parks like I said. I check out guys at bars, the mall, the bank, the grocery store, at football games, at stoplights and at the gym. And there are a surprising number of hotties at my Wal-Mart...(I can't wait to see how this plays into your metaphor!) There must be an underground cavern of men nearby!
And with that, I will leave you to ponder and reply...
My Excuse
Oh my gosh. I do apologize for my post yesterday! It was such a whiny, I-feel-sorry-for-myself sort of post. But I have a legitimate excuse which my male readers won't understand as much as my female readers: I'm hormonal. Feeling sorry for yourself comes with the territory. To boot, you get weepy, extremely hungry, extremely tired, bloated, stupid, pissy and migraines. Oh, and klutzy. Men, imagine being both sick and retarded for a week. That is sort of what it's like. Yesterday's post was exhibit A. Today, I add exhibits B, C and D:
B--Thirty-second news story on tv today talking about a dog that fell through the ice and almost died in Indiana. I was sobbing as if it were my own dog. I'm talking tears streaming down my face. I needed kleenex. And the dog was fine!
C--I dropped a gigantic blob of strawberry yogurt on my keyboard this morning. Ever try to get something like that out of your keyboard? It won't absorb into a paper towel, you can't fish it out and it is seriously affected by gravity, meaning that as I type this, it is slowly sinking to the underpart of the keyboard, deep beneath the keys. The good news is, it smells pretty good. The bad news is, I don't know how long.
D--Could....not....get...out....of...bed...this....morning. I felt like a mack truck had hit me.
These behaviors only rear themselves when I'm hormonal. I am very sorry ya'll have to bear the brunt of this. (Yes, I just said "y'all"!) I will try my best to refrain from posting while in these ridiculous moods henceforth. Now, back to the story...
B--Thirty-second news story on tv today talking about a dog that fell through the ice and almost died in Indiana. I was sobbing as if it were my own dog. I'm talking tears streaming down my face. I needed kleenex. And the dog was fine!
C--I dropped a gigantic blob of strawberry yogurt on my keyboard this morning. Ever try to get something like that out of your keyboard? It won't absorb into a paper towel, you can't fish it out and it is seriously affected by gravity, meaning that as I type this, it is slowly sinking to the underpart of the keyboard, deep beneath the keys. The good news is, it smells pretty good. The bad news is, I don't know how long.
D--Could....not....get...out....of...bed...this....morning. I felt like a mack truck had hit me.
These behaviors only rear themselves when I'm hormonal. I am very sorry ya'll have to bear the brunt of this. (Yes, I just said "y'all"!) I will try my best to refrain from posting while in these ridiculous moods henceforth. Now, back to the story...
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
What Am I Doing Wrong?
I read somewhere once (or maybe my mom said it to me): "Take a look at all of your past relationships. They all have one thing in common: you."
I've been thinking about my dating history a lot this week. I started dating through match.com a couple of months ago. So far, I'm really tempted to refer to it as "mis-match.com". But I need to be more positive, I think. I can't control how bad the dates are, only how I react to them. I just have to keep getting back on the saddle. If anything, it is making for good blog stories. So henceforth, I will strive to be more optimistic and nauseatingly sunshiny. It's a tough pill for a cynic like me to swallow, but I'll just do it. Negative attitudes abound in this land, and it will only come across to potential datees if I continue on this path. Besides, I firmly believe that if you force yourself to be positive, you will eventually become a positive person. It's a self-fulfilling mind trick.
How did I get to this point of relying on a computer to collect "eligible" bachelors for me? Well, I looked at it like this: I had not been on a date in a really....long.....time. Between December 2003 and January 2005 the total number of dates I went on totaled: zero. That is a year. (Aside from The Cop, a brief relationship which ended 6 months ago, I have had no dates other than match.com dates even to this day.) Unfortunately, regardless of how much I pleaded and begged, time refused to be on my side. I was tired of letting fate control my dating life, so I took my shriveling ovaries and sat down at my Dell to admit to myself (and the ovaries, since this was all their idea) that this was my only chance at getting a date in this town, even if it was with a 58 year old. Any date was better than no date at this point. Man, this was depressing.
The problem is, I don't know how I got to this point. I'm pretty good at relationships, (although I'm sure some of my exes would beg to differ!). Once they get off the ground, I know what I'm doing. Lately, the problem has been getting them started. I think of myself as happy, smart, fun and reasonably attractive. I don't have any major relationship hang-ups, I am not a psycho and I don't have unrealistic expectations (I hope.). I'm not in a rush to get married and I love to smooch. I even like to bake cookies! What more can they want? I'm a catch, according to my mom, although everyone's mom says that. So why aren't they knocking down my door? Some theories:
But enough whining and self-pity. I am trying to be positive and grateful. It could always be worse. I like to say to myself, "There's always next weekend!"
I've been thinking about my dating history a lot this week. I started dating through match.com a couple of months ago. So far, I'm really tempted to refer to it as "mis-match.com". But I need to be more positive, I think. I can't control how bad the dates are, only how I react to them. I just have to keep getting back on the saddle. If anything, it is making for good blog stories. So henceforth, I will strive to be more optimistic and nauseatingly sunshiny. It's a tough pill for a cynic like me to swallow, but I'll just do it. Negative attitudes abound in this land, and it will only come across to potential datees if I continue on this path. Besides, I firmly believe that if you force yourself to be positive, you will eventually become a positive person. It's a self-fulfilling mind trick.
How did I get to this point of relying on a computer to collect "eligible" bachelors for me? Well, I looked at it like this: I had not been on a date in a really....long.....time. Between December 2003 and January 2005 the total number of dates I went on totaled: zero. That is a year. (Aside from The Cop, a brief relationship which ended 6 months ago, I have had no dates other than match.com dates even to this day.) Unfortunately, regardless of how much I pleaded and begged, time refused to be on my side. I was tired of letting fate control my dating life, so I took my shriveling ovaries and sat down at my Dell to admit to myself (and the ovaries, since this was all their idea) that this was my only chance at getting a date in this town, even if it was with a 58 year old. Any date was better than no date at this point. Man, this was depressing.
The problem is, I don't know how I got to this point. I'm pretty good at relationships, (although I'm sure some of my exes would beg to differ!). Once they get off the ground, I know what I'm doing. Lately, the problem has been getting them started. I think of myself as happy, smart, fun and reasonably attractive. I don't have any major relationship hang-ups, I am not a psycho and I don't have unrealistic expectations (I hope.). I'm not in a rush to get married and I love to smooch. I even like to bake cookies! What more can they want? I'm a catch, according to my mom, although everyone's mom says that. So why aren't they knocking down my door? Some theories:
- The sluts are getting all the men.
- The good ones are, as we have all feared, taken. Just like early Microsoft investors, those girls in college knew a good thing when they saw it and invested it all right at the start, only to become multi-gazillionares in three years.
- They have evacuated Columbia for the greener patures of NYC after watching one too many SATC episodes.
- They are intimidated by my incredible charm and good looks.
- I'm unapproachable because I'm shy, maybe?
- Men have all become metrosexuals and cannot squeeze me in between their manicure and facial appointments.
- Men don't approach women anymore and have grown lazy and spoiled thanks to the aggressive, ball-busting, power-suit-wearing women who ask them out.
- Actually, they meant to approach me, but the game came on and they had one too many beers and passed out on the couch.
- They are all in hiding, driven to underground caverns to escape the crazy psycho women that are pestering them.
- I'm actually invisible to all men in my target audience.
But enough whining and self-pity. I am trying to be positive and grateful. It could always be worse. I like to say to myself, "There's always next weekend!"
Monday, December 05, 2005
The Match, part 1
I do not pick the wrong guys. They pick me. -- Carrie Bradshaw, SATC
To which Miranda replies, "So, what, you're like a flystrip for dysfunctional men?" To which I say, "Yes! This is so true! And Match only confirms this statement!" I thought the bars were bad with their slightly-too-old-for-me drunk redneck guys, but the urban adventure which is Match.com really brought the freaks out of the woodwork.
I have been reading some other blogs [see sidebar] and the topic of online dating comes up on occasion. I would like to contribute to the discussion. But first, some of my personal experiences...
The only logical explanations are that they simply don't read my profile or think they can change my mind. Both explanations are insulting. So I don't respond, and then they send me one of those "Gosh! The least you can do is reply and tell me you aren't interested!" emails. To which I want to reply, "Gosh, the least you can do is RTFP! It's there for a reason, f--ktard!" And then all the great, cute, smart and funny guys think women have attitudes. Can you blame us????
Right now you are saying, "Oh, they can't all be that bad!" Oh, yes they can. Here are my dates so far:
Date #1-- Nice guy, but his photo showed him having a full head of hair. (Some girls are ok w/baldness, I'm not one of them. I don't care if they get that way one day down the road, but I don't start w/bald. There are a few exceptions. I said few.)
Date #2--Another nice guy, and I really would have liked it to work out, but he was a horrible kisser. And clingy. Both are instant deal-breakers for me as I see these as "unfixables". Not to mention awkward topics to bring up. Next!
Date #3--No. Spark. Bor....ing.
Date #4 and #5--Dr. Seuss and Small World Guy (See previous post)
Upcoming--Danger Dan and Cute T. (I hope, I hope, I hope he is one of those cute, smart, funny guys....!)
Can anyone tell me the average number of dates you have to go on before actually meeting your match? Because right now, the thought of going on another blind date makes me want to vomit. Match should keep track of statistics like this and give me little pep talk emails like, "Hang in there! Only 3 more awful dates until statistics show you will meet your next boyfriend!"
Until then, I will be checking my winks...
To which Miranda replies, "So, what, you're like a flystrip for dysfunctional men?" To which I say, "Yes! This is so true! And Match only confirms this statement!" I thought the bars were bad with their slightly-too-old-for-me drunk redneck guys, but the urban adventure which is Match.com really brought the freaks out of the woodwork.
I have been reading some other blogs [see sidebar] and the topic of online dating comes up on occasion. I would like to contribute to the discussion. But first, some of my personal experiences...
- Foot Fetish Guy-- a self-described "foot fetisher" and lover of "pale-skinned women", his picture was taken in approximately 1986 since the photo appears to be his entry into the New Kids on the Block try-outs. Denim shirt (opened to expose 'physique'), slight mullet, one foot propped up on something, cheesy grin...he looked like Rambo's gay brother. His email to me talked about rubbing my long, pale feet no less than three times. Did I mention he lives three states away? (Thank God!)
- Various old guys-- Ranging in ages, one as old as--get this--71. What 71 year old is even computer literate, let alone horny? These perverts get the standard "dirty old man reply" : Maybe you should try emailing my mother since she is closer in age to you, sicko! (and is it just me, or is a perverted screen name a dead giveaway that it's an old guy? do they think chicks dig horny old men?)
- Not Really Ready Yet Guy-- His entire profile was one long rant about his bitterness towards women, his ex and Match. It was hilarious, but that doesn't mean I want to get with someone with so much anger.
- Lecture Invite Guy -- truly a mystery. His emails were never real actual emails, but invites to various lectures around town. They read like mass-invites because he never even mentioned me or asked me any questions. I think he just wanted young women to go to these lectures so that he would have some eye candy or something. Some of them I actually would have gone to, since I'm a geek like that, but I feared meeting this 55 year-old face-to-face. I blocked him and notified Match.
- Kind-of-Sad Guy -- If he weren't so strange, I would feel bad about mentioning this guy. He is deaf, which is sad, but he cannot spell or communicate using common English grammar for s--t. It is to the point that his profile is basically unintelligible. Seriously, either get a proof-reader or resign yourself to only dating girls who can't read. But the wierd thing is, homeboy has about 45 pictures on his profile. No joke. Now, everyone who has a big hobby is cool in my book. And just about every contact is flattering. Even if they are...wierd. Each one of his pictures were of him doing tae kwon do. Ok, that's cool. But towards the end, they showed him doing tae kwon do while wearing various costumes...like Star Trek, ninja, etc. The weirdest one was him sitting on a horse wearing a full armor suit. Like as in, Sir Galahad or something. Methinks the lad doth take one too many wollups in ye head...
- The Why-Do-You-Think-This-Could-Happen People-- one lived in England, one lived in Korea, one was still married, one was a woman (who was "finally ready to explore"), one lived in Florida but was in my town one day per month, one was 18, one was obviously not out of the closet yet, one still lived with his mother and one was unemployed. (I'm sorry, but I don't think it's too much to ask that they be gainfully employed! But I guess he's honest, right?)
The only logical explanations are that they simply don't read my profile or think they can change my mind. Both explanations are insulting. So I don't respond, and then they send me one of those "Gosh! The least you can do is reply and tell me you aren't interested!" emails. To which I want to reply, "Gosh, the least you can do is RTFP! It's there for a reason, f--ktard!" And then all the great, cute, smart and funny guys think women have attitudes. Can you blame us????
Right now you are saying, "Oh, they can't all be that bad!" Oh, yes they can. Here are my dates so far:
Date #1-- Nice guy, but his photo showed him having a full head of hair. (Some girls are ok w/baldness, I'm not one of them. I don't care if they get that way one day down the road, but I don't start w/bald. There are a few exceptions. I said few.)
Date #2--Another nice guy, and I really would have liked it to work out, but he was a horrible kisser. And clingy. Both are instant deal-breakers for me as I see these as "unfixables". Not to mention awkward topics to bring up. Next!
Date #3--No. Spark. Bor....ing.
Date #4 and #5--Dr. Seuss and Small World Guy (See previous post)
Upcoming--Danger Dan and Cute T. (I hope, I hope, I hope he is one of those cute, smart, funny guys....!)
Can anyone tell me the average number of dates you have to go on before actually meeting your match? Because right now, the thought of going on another blind date makes me want to vomit. Match should keep track of statistics like this and give me little pep talk emails like, "Hang in there! Only 3 more awful dates until statistics show you will meet your next boyfriend!"
Until then, I will be checking my winks...
Three Things
A little about me for those who don't know me personally....
| Three Things | |
| Three things that scare me: | |
| 1: | Brown (not black) crickets |
| 2: | Heights |
| 3: | E-bola virus |
| Three people who make me laugh: | |
| 1: | Dave Chapelle |
| 2: | Mike Myers |
| 3: | My Best Friend |
| Three Things I love: | |
| 1: | Office supplies |
| 2: | Makeup |
| 3: | Candy |
| Three Things I hate: | |
| 1: | Squash |
| 2: | Olives |
| 3: | Carrot Top |
| Three things I don't understand: | |
| 1: | How other people know what kind of job they want |
| 2: | Fishing--it is so freakin' boring. |
| 3: | How people can live in really really cold places. |
| Three things on my desk: | |
| 1: | Picture of the fam |
| 2: | Highlighters in every color |
| 3: | Lots and lots of colored post-its |
| Three things I'm doing right now: | |
| 1: | Not working |
| 2: | Thinking about lunch |
| 3: | Having a bad hair day |
| Three things I want to do before I die: | |
| 1: | Become fluent in 5 languages |
| 2: | Travel |
| 3: | Have kids |
| Three things I can do: | |
| 1: | Navigate (I never get lost!) |
| 2: | Play the violin |
| 3: | Cook |
| Three ways to describe my personality: | |
| 1: | Sarcastic |
| 2: | Friendly |
| 3: | Understanding |
| Three things I can't do: | |
| 1: | Math! I can't even balance my checkbook! |
| 2: | Park my car evenly--I'm always crooked |
| 3: | Lie |
| Take this survey | Find more surveys You've been totally Bzoink*d | |
Saturday, December 03, 2005
The Country Bar
Goddamn, you play a mean banjo! --Drew, Deliverance
Remember that banjo riff from that movie? Please keep it in mind as I tell you about last night...
I went with The Blonde Nurse and some of her coworkers to Saddle Ridge, one of the newest bars here in Columbia. I'm not big on country music, but it is a great place to people watch. There are a lot of regular people there, but I think they just come to people watch the rednecks like I do. Last night didn't disappoint. Collectively, we saw: a rat tail--on a woman!, a girl with a beer gut, a redneck who looked like a homeless Eric Clapton and (drumroll, please...) a guy with one tooth. It was one of those moments I like to call "Only in South Carolina!"
There were also some cowboy hats, which I have to say, can look really hot on the right guy--you can thank Tim McGraw for that one. Yee-ha, cowboy! Surprisingly, there were no mullets that I could see. I think mullets are good luck--whenever I see one, I have a great time.
I also met a guy who allows me to add to my list of advice to men everywhere. The list is called "Don't Be This Guy." Today I add: Never ever be the guy who goes to the bars alone. And if you do, do not hit on women. Why? Think about the men who are out alone after dark...they include: taxi drivers, muggers, serial rapists and pizza delivery guys. Do you really want to be part of this group? I didn't think so. I don't care how cute or nice you are, going out to the bars alone is just wierd.*
* I did run into MIA once in this way, but he knows everyone in town, so this is the lone exception. Plus, I already knew him, so he was non-threatening.
Remember that banjo riff from that movie? Please keep it in mind as I tell you about last night...
I went with The Blonde Nurse and some of her coworkers to Saddle Ridge, one of the newest bars here in Columbia. I'm not big on country music, but it is a great place to people watch. There are a lot of regular people there, but I think they just come to people watch the rednecks like I do. Last night didn't disappoint. Collectively, we saw: a rat tail--on a woman!, a girl with a beer gut, a redneck who looked like a homeless Eric Clapton and (drumroll, please...) a guy with one tooth. It was one of those moments I like to call "Only in South Carolina!"
There were also some cowboy hats, which I have to say, can look really hot on the right guy--you can thank Tim McGraw for that one. Yee-ha, cowboy! Surprisingly, there were no mullets that I could see. I think mullets are good luck--whenever I see one, I have a great time.
I also met a guy who allows me to add to my list of advice to men everywhere. The list is called "Don't Be This Guy." Today I add: Never ever be the guy who goes to the bars alone. And if you do, do not hit on women. Why? Think about the men who are out alone after dark...they include: taxi drivers, muggers, serial rapists and pizza delivery guys. Do you really want to be part of this group? I didn't think so. I don't care how cute or nice you are, going out to the bars alone is just wierd.*
* I did run into MIA once in this way, but he knows everyone in town, so this is the lone exception. Plus, I already knew him, so he was non-threatening.
Vocabulary Lesson
Two terms I think are eligible as new entries in Webster's:
Blogret- (n.) - The realization you have told everyone you know about your blog and now regret doing so because you can't gossip about anyone you know in your blog.
Blog hole- (n.) - A state where you spend virtually all of your free time reading blogs and get sucked into a vortex that eats up your life. Especially common in new bloggers.
Blogret- (n.) - The realization you have told everyone you know about your blog and now regret doing so because you can't gossip about anyone you know in your blog.
Blog hole- (n.) - A state where you spend virtually all of your free time reading blogs and get sucked into a vortex that eats up your life. Especially common in new bloggers.
Friday, December 02, 2005
Characters in this Story
It's not the men in my life that count , it's the life in my men. --Mae West
Gosh I love Mae West's sense of humor. But I digress. I have been thinking it would be good for my readers to get familiar with the following characters (ie, men) in my life, as they will undoubtedly (hopefully?) pop up in my stories sooner or later...
In no particular order...
The Cop is my most recent ex. I have to say he really does it for me--I think he's quite yummy: tall, incredible kisser, muscular, wears a spiffy uniform to work, could rescue me if necessary...(insert girly sigh here). We were swimming along merrily until his roommates threw a party. The Cop had to work and forbid--yes, I said forbid--me to go without him. Even though I considered his roommates to be friends of mine and I was bringing my own friends anyway. He was screaming at me (this was a new and very very ugly side to him which I had never really seen before). I told him that this had to end if he thought he could use that tone of voice and tell me what to do. Yelling is an instant deal-breaker for me. We have talked a few times since then. We even went out to lunch. Although, I have to admit it was mostly my doing. Because I had ulterior motives....(use your imagination). Those motives blew up in my face when he shot me down. Cold. Let's just say I'm not his biggest fan.
MIA is one of The Cop's former roommates. I had always thought he was a great guy, but I had never really hung out with him all that much. I ran into him one weekend at a bar. He was not with The Cop and he was pretty buzzed, which ended up being a great thing because he made a big confession to me: he had a thing for me. (Maybe this was why The Cop didn't want me going to the party?) He went on and on (*blush*) and wanted to know what I thought about us dating since I was no longer with The Cop. I said sure and gave him my number, thinking Cool. I'm kind of excited about this. He told me he wanted to hang out very soon. As in that very night. I said, "Uhhh...what's the hurry?" He kept asking and I kept blowing the idea off. I figured he was just drunk or horny or lonely. I figured that when he sobered up in the morning, he would behave normally and call me for a normal date. Um, so far that has not happened. He only drunk text-messages me. The most recent one? "happy tivgping" --ha ha! I'm kind of fed up with the endless texting that never goes anywhere. It's a letdown because I can actually see things happening between us.
Hook Up Guy makes my "Hottest Men I've Ever Laid Eyes On" list, which, including him, only lists 3 people. I met him one night out at the bars when he spilled his drink on my foot. I think he might have been on purpose, come to think of it. We have so much chemistry you could heat your house with it. It was, as I like to say, "On like Donkey Kong". But I had to leave, and so I gave him my number. He called a couple nights later wanting to know if I could come over and spend the night. Exsqueeze me? It turns out that HUG doesn't date. Yup, he only "hooks up." He is just that honest. I on the other hand, do not hook up--I only date. So we were at a crossroads, and I took a timeout. He's HOT but he's emotionally unavailable....dang!!! After that, I ran into him every time I went out for months afterwards. It was very strange and only made me lust after him even more. He always said his offer still stands. Then I didn't see him for a while and figured he moved. But a couple weeks ago, guess who joined my gym?! I told him I would give him a call....but haven't decided what to do yet.
The One That Got Away...oh man, doesn't everyone have one of these? We're friends...we crossed the line and it was a mistake.....and went back to being friends. Another person I have amazing chemistry with. I have the most shameless school girl crush on this guy. But I don't think it will ever happen. I guess I just don't do it for him. Ok, that's all I'm saying about him because I think he reads this blog...but I'm sure he knows all of this anyway.
OK, you should be all caught up now. If anyone has any advice/explanation for their behavior, please let me in on it!
Gosh I love Mae West's sense of humor. But I digress. I have been thinking it would be good for my readers to get familiar with the following characters (ie, men) in my life, as they will undoubtedly (hopefully?) pop up in my stories sooner or later...
In no particular order...
The Cop is my most recent ex. I have to say he really does it for me--I think he's quite yummy: tall, incredible kisser, muscular, wears a spiffy uniform to work, could rescue me if necessary...(insert girly sigh here). We were swimming along merrily until his roommates threw a party. The Cop had to work and forbid--yes, I said forbid--me to go without him. Even though I considered his roommates to be friends of mine and I was bringing my own friends anyway. He was screaming at me (this was a new and very very ugly side to him which I had never really seen before). I told him that this had to end if he thought he could use that tone of voice and tell me what to do. Yelling is an instant deal-breaker for me. We have talked a few times since then. We even went out to lunch. Although, I have to admit it was mostly my doing. Because I had ulterior motives....(use your imagination). Those motives blew up in my face when he shot me down. Cold. Let's just say I'm not his biggest fan.
MIA is one of The Cop's former roommates. I had always thought he was a great guy, but I had never really hung out with him all that much. I ran into him one weekend at a bar. He was not with The Cop and he was pretty buzzed, which ended up being a great thing because he made a big confession to me: he had a thing for me. (Maybe this was why The Cop didn't want me going to the party?) He went on and on (*blush*) and wanted to know what I thought about us dating since I was no longer with The Cop. I said sure and gave him my number, thinking Cool. I'm kind of excited about this. He told me he wanted to hang out very soon. As in that very night. I said, "Uhhh...what's the hurry?" He kept asking and I kept blowing the idea off. I figured he was just drunk or horny or lonely. I figured that when he sobered up in the morning, he would behave normally and call me for a normal date. Um, so far that has not happened. He only drunk text-messages me. The most recent one? "happy tivgping" --ha ha! I'm kind of fed up with the endless texting that never goes anywhere. It's a letdown because I can actually see things happening between us.
Hook Up Guy makes my "Hottest Men I've Ever Laid Eyes On" list, which, including him, only lists 3 people. I met him one night out at the bars when he spilled his drink on my foot. I think he might have been on purpose, come to think of it. We have so much chemistry you could heat your house with it. It was, as I like to say, "On like Donkey Kong". But I had to leave, and so I gave him my number. He called a couple nights later wanting to know if I could come over and spend the night. Exsqueeze me? It turns out that HUG doesn't date. Yup, he only "hooks up." He is just that honest. I on the other hand, do not hook up--I only date. So we were at a crossroads, and I took a timeout. He's HOT but he's emotionally unavailable....dang!!! After that, I ran into him every time I went out for months afterwards. It was very strange and only made me lust after him even more. He always said his offer still stands. Then I didn't see him for a while and figured he moved. But a couple weeks ago, guess who joined my gym?! I told him I would give him a call....but haven't decided what to do yet.
The One That Got Away...oh man, doesn't everyone have one of these? We're friends...we crossed the line and it was a mistake.....and went back to being friends. Another person I have amazing chemistry with. I have the most shameless school girl crush on this guy. But I don't think it will ever happen. I guess I just don't do it for him. Ok, that's all I'm saying about him because I think he reads this blog...but I'm sure he knows all of this anyway.
OK, you should be all caught up now. If anyone has any advice/explanation for their behavior, please let me in on it!
Good News!
All I want to do is go swimming and eat at Applebee's. --Fungus
Fungus is my brother. He is in the National Guard, so he has been in Iraq for about a year now. I just got word that he is on his way home, and may even be stateside right now! Needless to say, the fam is pretty stoked about this. We didn't think he'd be home until the end of January, but now he will be home for Christmas. Then he will head back to college for his senior year.
He emailed me the other day, which is where the quote came from. He also said he wants to go to the mountains because there are real, actual trees there. And no sand.
My hometown is very, very small and since they have nothing better to do, rumor has it that his unit is going to be in the Christmas parade. OK, now I'm going to brag a little here...Fungus is up for a Bronze Star for bravery. He was a prison guard (no, he was not involved in the whole Abu-Gahraib thing) in Iraq and he prevented a big inmate escape plan--all by himself! He held off about 100 prisoners with nothing but a pistol for about a half hour. Yeah! That's MY brother!!! He was interviewed on Fox News and everything. Regardless of how you feel about the war, you gotta admit that is cool. I know I would have been hiding under my bed if I were in that situation!
Fungus is my brother. He is in the National Guard, so he has been in Iraq for about a year now. I just got word that he is on his way home, and may even be stateside right now! Needless to say, the fam is pretty stoked about this. We didn't think he'd be home until the end of January, but now he will be home for Christmas. Then he will head back to college for his senior year.
He emailed me the other day, which is where the quote came from. He also said he wants to go to the mountains because there are real, actual trees there. And no sand.
My hometown is very, very small and since they have nothing better to do, rumor has it that his unit is going to be in the Christmas parade. OK, now I'm going to brag a little here...Fungus is up for a Bronze Star for bravery. He was a prison guard (no, he was not involved in the whole Abu-Gahraib thing) in Iraq and he prevented a big inmate escape plan--all by himself! He held off about 100 prisoners with nothing but a pistol for about a half hour. Yeah! That's MY brother!!! He was interviewed on Fox News and everything. Regardless of how you feel about the war, you gotta admit that is cool. I know I would have been hiding under my bed if I were in that situation!
Thursday, December 01, 2005
Bad Girl?
| You Are a Normal Girl |
 You are 40% Good and 60% Bad Sure you've pulled some bad girl stunts in your past. But these days, you're (mostly) a good girl. |
I thought this would be a good follow-up to my Bad Girl Weekend post. According to the ever-reliable Blogthings, I am only a "Normal Girl" rather than a Bad Girl. This is disappointing. I will have to improve.
I have an Inner Slut, I swear!!!!
My Stupid Car
Driving Excitement! --The Slogan for Pontiac Automobiles
I hate my car. It is my mom's old car, and it is only 4 years old. I have had terrible luck with it ever since I got it about a year ago. A month after I got it, it needed $600 worth of repairs. Then it was ok until last summer, when there were two nails in the still-fairly-new tires. The tire guy said he could not patch them. So I had to buy two new tires. Oh, and they are a special size, so the tires are $200 each.
About two months later, I was getting an oil change when the tire guy said, "Hey, did you know you need two more tires? The tread is pretty bad on these other two." Dammit. So I got the other tires replaced.
Then about two weeks after that, the engine light came on. Faaaaabulous. I took it back to the tire guy (what can I say? He's the hottest mechanic I've ever seen!) in the hopes that he could fix it. He couldn't fix it because it is something complicated, so I had to take it to a dealer. Because I love to get expensive repairs!
This is around early October by now. I have taken my car into the dealership no fewer than 8 times. Yes, eight times. Since October. I have spent about $1,000 on trying to get my car's engine light to stop coming on. No joke. Each trip in goes the same way. I tell them the engine light is on (again). They plug their little computer into the car. They say "such-and-such expensive doohickey needs to be replaced. We think." I say ok. They tell me they think they have fixed it, and I go home. Three days later, the light comes on again.
Keep in mind this has happened eight times. Each time, I am in a progressively worse temperament. Even letting me have a free rental Jag while they fix it is not cutting it anymore. (Although, I have to say, it was pretty cool to drive a "Jag-you-are" as they say in the commercials.) After about the 6th trip in, they have stopped charging me because they feel really bad. The only reason I have not driven this car into a lake is because it is already paid for, so even with all the repairs, it is still cheaper than having a car payment.
So I'm talking to Cindy, the lady who is handling my account. She is explaining to me how the mechanic can't seem to figure out what is wrong, because they will fix the part the computer is telling them to fix, the engine will give the impression that everything is ok, and then the "check engine" light will come on again after three days.
I say, "So, the car is sending mixed signals?"
Cindy says, "Yes."
I say, "Like a man?"
Cindy says, "Yes, exactly." And we have a little chuckle.
Finally, we come to the conclusion that it may be the computer itself that is messed up because it started to give out false positives about stuff that was not actually broken. They re-programmed the computer, replaced one last part and so far, I have been ok. It even made it home to Virginia for Thanksgiving without a hitch. So I think I'm in the clear. Too bad my credit card isn't.
I'm not driving excitement. I'm driving disappointment.
I hate my car. It is my mom's old car, and it is only 4 years old. I have had terrible luck with it ever since I got it about a year ago. A month after I got it, it needed $600 worth of repairs. Then it was ok until last summer, when there were two nails in the still-fairly-new tires. The tire guy said he could not patch them. So I had to buy two new tires. Oh, and they are a special size, so the tires are $200 each.
About two months later, I was getting an oil change when the tire guy said, "Hey, did you know you need two more tires? The tread is pretty bad on these other two." Dammit. So I got the other tires replaced.
Then about two weeks after that, the engine light came on. Faaaaabulous. I took it back to the tire guy (what can I say? He's the hottest mechanic I've ever seen!) in the hopes that he could fix it. He couldn't fix it because it is something complicated, so I had to take it to a dealer. Because I love to get expensive repairs!
This is around early October by now. I have taken my car into the dealership no fewer than 8 times. Yes, eight times. Since October. I have spent about $1,000 on trying to get my car's engine light to stop coming on. No joke. Each trip in goes the same way. I tell them the engine light is on (again). They plug their little computer into the car. They say "such-and-such expensive doohickey needs to be replaced. We think." I say ok. They tell me they think they have fixed it, and I go home. Three days later, the light comes on again.
Keep in mind this has happened eight times. Each time, I am in a progressively worse temperament. Even letting me have a free rental Jag while they fix it is not cutting it anymore. (Although, I have to say, it was pretty cool to drive a "Jag-you-are" as they say in the commercials.) After about the 6th trip in, they have stopped charging me because they feel really bad. The only reason I have not driven this car into a lake is because it is already paid for, so even with all the repairs, it is still cheaper than having a car payment.
So I'm talking to Cindy, the lady who is handling my account. She is explaining to me how the mechanic can't seem to figure out what is wrong, because they will fix the part the computer is telling them to fix, the engine will give the impression that everything is ok, and then the "check engine" light will come on again after three days.
I say, "So, the car is sending mixed signals?"
Cindy says, "Yes."
I say, "Like a man?"
Cindy says, "Yes, exactly." And we have a little chuckle.
Finally, we come to the conclusion that it may be the computer itself that is messed up because it started to give out false positives about stuff that was not actually broken. They re-programmed the computer, replaced one last part and so far, I have been ok. It even made it home to Virginia for Thanksgiving without a hitch. So I think I'm in the clear. Too bad my credit card isn't.
I'm not driving excitement. I'm driving disappointment.
Wednesday, November 30, 2005
The Squirrel
A squirrel is just a rat in a cuter outfit. -- Sarah Jessica Parker as Carrie Bradshaw in Sex and the City
In honor of the holiday season, I will post this story as a warning to all who travel out of town for holidays.
I used to live in Fayetteville, NC in a very sketchy and run-down ground-floor apartment. I always joked that I might as well live in a tent in my yard because everything that lived outside, also lived inside with me: mice, roaches, spiders, various large wormy things...you name it. Little did I know how prophetic this statement would become. I was very, very broke at the time since I had just graduated college and was teaching high school. Only my hot Cuban neighbor made this living situation bearable. (Remind me to post about the hot Cuban neighbor.)
I was packing up my car (the very, very sad-looking 1989 Dodge Colt Vista, which is something you would expect to see filled with--please excuse the stereotype--14 Mexicans) to drive home to Virginia, so I propped open the kitchen door while I was loading.
OK, fast-forward 5 days later, when I'm returning to my apartment in Fayetteville. I grab a couple bags out of the back of my hatchback and I open the side door to go into my kitchen.
Then I had a heart attack. Omigod. What is that???
There is a dead squirrel on my kitchen floor.
My brain is flooded:
Did I just see what I think I saw?
How the f--- did it get in my house?
Why is it in my house?
How do I get it out?
Can you call animal control when the animal is already dead?
That is totally disgusting.
I hope it doesn't stink.
Well, I guess it is the best type of flooring for dead animals. It's easy to clean linoleum.
Am I going to have to get a rabies shot?
Don't they give those shots to you in the stomach???
Then I did what any young, panicked woman does. I called my mother. Keep in mind that reaching my phone involves going back into the kitchen. (I didn't have a cell phone at the time.) Stepping on the floor is totally out of the question, because all I can envision is the dead squirrel springing back to life, hoisting up my pants leg, only to attack me and repeatedly bite my shin--starting at the ankle and working its way up, all the while making a sickening chomp! chomp! chomp! sound as it slices through my flesh with its long, germy rodent teeth. So, instead, I leap from the doorstep up onto the kitchen chair, teetering on one foot as I reach across the table to grab my phone. I pivot on my tiptoes and leap back down and out of the house. Standing in my yard, I call my mom.
Me: Momohmygodithinkthere'sadeadsquirrelinmyhouse (pant pant) doihavetogetarabiesshotwhatifitcomesbacktolifeand (gasp!) attacksmewhenigoinside??!!??
Mom: (laughing her ass off at me)
Me: Mom, this is not funny. Seriously, what do I do?? [At this point, I'm seriously doubting the last four years of my life, as my very expensive history degree is totally useless in rodent attack situations.]
Mom: Duh! Get a broom and sweep it out.
Me: Oh. Right. Hey, do I have to get a rabies shot? Do I have to fumigate my house or something? What if there are rabies germs everywhere?
Mom: Just go get the broom, VB. And calm down. Sheesh! It's just a squirrel.
Me: Yes, but it is in my house. And it's dead.
Mom: Well, I don't know what else to tell you. Just sweep it out.
Me: Then there will be a dead squirrel in my yard.
Mom: Isn't that better?
Me: Um, yes. Ok, I'm going now. Pray for me. [click.]
Again, I teeter on my kitchen chair to jump through the kitchen to get to the closet where I keep my broom. Then I jump back onto the kitchen chair and prepare to sweep the dead rodent out. I can only imagine what I must have looked like. Anyone watching me through the kitchen window would have seen me performing rather acrobatic leaps on my furniture, all the while staring intently at a spot on my kitchen floor and wringing my hands. So as my broom reaches the squirrel, I can tell that this squirrel is a lot heavier than I expected. You'd think that they wouldn't be that hard to sweep out. Just a bunch of fur, right? But I have to use a little bit of force. That is because the squirrel is sopping wet. Ewwww. Oh God, why is it wet??? Where did the water come from? I will figure it out when I get it outside.
As the squirrel nears the doorstep, it BEGINS TO MOVE. IT IS NOT DEAD YET!!! It is in some kind of water-logged stupor, because it is not moving as quickly as I had feared. That is not to say that my heart rate isn't about 400 beats/minute at this point. I am completely freaked out. I scream bloody murder and swoosh the squirrel out with one last frantic push. It flops into the yard. Thank you, thank you thank you.
Now it's time to assess the damage. I need to know:
Next, the living room. I looked at my couch. What if it was a pregnant squirrel and it made a nest out of my sofa stuffing and had little babies and they are embedded in my cushions?
Thankfully, this was not the case. Whew! Living room looked good.
Spare bedroom where I keep my clothes: clear. Whew! Gosh, maybe it didn't spend any time in my house at all.
Then, I went into the bathroom, where I found out how it had gotten wet. There was water all over the floor. That was because somehow, the squirrel had gone swimming in my toilet and managed to climb back out of it. That, to this day, amazes me. I know it was in there, because there was a bunch of dirt at the bottom of the toilet bowl. I wonder how long it struggled to get out of the bowl. How the heck did it do that? No wonder it had collapsed, stupefied, on my kitchen floor. It was probably thinking, Must....get...out....need...acorns...can't...get...to...door...
Ask me how grateful I am that it DID get back out and I was not dealing with Can I flush a dead squirrel?
Only one room left: my bedroom. Apparently, the squirrel selected my bedroom as the only room where he went TOTALLY APESHIT. There is a path of destruction which encircles my room. It starts at the door, where you can see it decided to SHIT IN MY BED. I love it. It could have shat anywhere in my apartment, but it chooses my friggin bed. (FYI: squirrel shit is relatively easy to clean--it is pellet-like. Sort of like rabbit poo.) After that, it decided to get tangled in my mini-blinds, because they are all askew and mangled. Then it apparently lept to my dresser (Why, I don't know. Maybe he wanted to get gussied up to prepare for my arrival home?) where it knocked over several breakables, only one of which was damaged. Ok, that is not so bad. Oh, but it knocked over the trashcan too. Oh, but it did all of this after the toilet saga, so everything is also wet. Grrreat.
After calming down, I finished unloading my car and cleaned everything up. Then I spent about 3 hours trying to figure out how it got into my apartment in the first place. I never did find any holes in the walls or ceilings which would explain his entrance. I was puzzled. Then, a few days later, I came to my conclusion: It must have entered my apartment when I loaded up my car because I had the kitchen door propped open.
So, kids, the moral of the story is, never ever ever leave your door propped open when you are loading your car!!!!!
In honor of the holiday season, I will post this story as a warning to all who travel out of town for holidays.
I used to live in Fayetteville, NC in a very sketchy and run-down ground-floor apartment. I always joked that I might as well live in a tent in my yard because everything that lived outside, also lived inside with me: mice, roaches, spiders, various large wormy things...you name it. Little did I know how prophetic this statement would become. I was very, very broke at the time since I had just graduated college and was teaching high school. Only my hot Cuban neighbor made this living situation bearable. (Remind me to post about the hot Cuban neighbor.)
I was packing up my car (the very, very sad-looking 1989 Dodge Colt Vista, which is something you would expect to see filled with--please excuse the stereotype--14 Mexicans) to drive home to Virginia, so I propped open the kitchen door while I was loading.
OK, fast-forward 5 days later, when I'm returning to my apartment in Fayetteville. I grab a couple bags out of the back of my hatchback and I open the side door to go into my kitchen.
Then I had a heart attack. Omigod. What is that???
There is a dead squirrel on my kitchen floor.
My brain is flooded:
Did I just see what I think I saw?
How the f--- did it get in my house?
Why is it in my house?
How do I get it out?
Can you call animal control when the animal is already dead?
That is totally disgusting.
I hope it doesn't stink.
Well, I guess it is the best type of flooring for dead animals. It's easy to clean linoleum.
Am I going to have to get a rabies shot?
Don't they give those shots to you in the stomach???
Then I did what any young, panicked woman does. I called my mother. Keep in mind that reaching my phone involves going back into the kitchen. (I didn't have a cell phone at the time.) Stepping on the floor is totally out of the question, because all I can envision is the dead squirrel springing back to life, hoisting up my pants leg, only to attack me and repeatedly bite my shin--starting at the ankle and working its way up, all the while making a sickening chomp! chomp! chomp! sound as it slices through my flesh with its long, germy rodent teeth. So, instead, I leap from the doorstep up onto the kitchen chair, teetering on one foot as I reach across the table to grab my phone. I pivot on my tiptoes and leap back down and out of the house. Standing in my yard, I call my mom.
Me: Momohmygodithinkthere'sadeadsquirrelinmyhouse (pant pant) doihavetogetarabiesshotwhatifitcomesbacktolifeand (gasp!) attacksmewhenigoinside??!!??
Mom: (laughing her ass off at me)
Me: Mom, this is not funny. Seriously, what do I do?? [At this point, I'm seriously doubting the last four years of my life, as my very expensive history degree is totally useless in rodent attack situations.]
Mom: Duh! Get a broom and sweep it out.
Me: Oh. Right. Hey, do I have to get a rabies shot? Do I have to fumigate my house or something? What if there are rabies germs everywhere?
Mom: Just go get the broom, VB. And calm down. Sheesh! It's just a squirrel.
Me: Yes, but it is in my house. And it's dead.
Mom: Well, I don't know what else to tell you. Just sweep it out.
Me: Then there will be a dead squirrel in my yard.
Mom: Isn't that better?
Me: Um, yes. Ok, I'm going now. Pray for me. [click.]
Again, I teeter on my kitchen chair to jump through the kitchen to get to the closet where I keep my broom. Then I jump back onto the kitchen chair and prepare to sweep the dead rodent out. I can only imagine what I must have looked like. Anyone watching me through the kitchen window would have seen me performing rather acrobatic leaps on my furniture, all the while staring intently at a spot on my kitchen floor and wringing my hands. So as my broom reaches the squirrel, I can tell that this squirrel is a lot heavier than I expected. You'd think that they wouldn't be that hard to sweep out. Just a bunch of fur, right? But I have to use a little bit of force. That is because the squirrel is sopping wet. Ewwww. Oh God, why is it wet??? Where did the water come from? I will figure it out when I get it outside.
As the squirrel nears the doorstep, it BEGINS TO MOVE. IT IS NOT DEAD YET!!! It is in some kind of water-logged stupor, because it is not moving as quickly as I had feared. That is not to say that my heart rate isn't about 400 beats/minute at this point. I am completely freaked out. I scream bloody murder and swoosh the squirrel out with one last frantic push. It flops into the yard. Thank you, thank you thank you.
Now it's time to assess the damage. I need to know:
- How did it get in?
- How did it get wet?
- How long was it in here?
- What did it want?
- Where did it shit?
- What did it chew on?
- Is it alone or did it bring its buddies over for some beers?
Next, the living room. I looked at my couch. What if it was a pregnant squirrel and it made a nest out of my sofa stuffing and had little babies and they are embedded in my cushions?
Thankfully, this was not the case. Whew! Living room looked good.
Spare bedroom where I keep my clothes: clear. Whew! Gosh, maybe it didn't spend any time in my house at all.
Then, I went into the bathroom, where I found out how it had gotten wet. There was water all over the floor. That was because somehow, the squirrel had gone swimming in my toilet and managed to climb back out of it. That, to this day, amazes me. I know it was in there, because there was a bunch of dirt at the bottom of the toilet bowl. I wonder how long it struggled to get out of the bowl. How the heck did it do that? No wonder it had collapsed, stupefied, on my kitchen floor. It was probably thinking, Must....get...out....need...acorns...can't...get...to...door...
Ask me how grateful I am that it DID get back out and I was not dealing with Can I flush a dead squirrel?
Only one room left: my bedroom. Apparently, the squirrel selected my bedroom as the only room where he went TOTALLY APESHIT. There is a path of destruction which encircles my room. It starts at the door, where you can see it decided to SHIT IN MY BED. I love it. It could have shat anywhere in my apartment, but it chooses my friggin bed. (FYI: squirrel shit is relatively easy to clean--it is pellet-like. Sort of like rabbit poo.) After that, it decided to get tangled in my mini-blinds, because they are all askew and mangled. Then it apparently lept to my dresser (Why, I don't know. Maybe he wanted to get gussied up to prepare for my arrival home?) where it knocked over several breakables, only one of which was damaged. Ok, that is not so bad. Oh, but it knocked over the trashcan too. Oh, but it did all of this after the toilet saga, so everything is also wet. Grrreat.
After calming down, I finished unloading my car and cleaned everything up. Then I spent about 3 hours trying to figure out how it got into my apartment in the first place. I never did find any holes in the walls or ceilings which would explain his entrance. I was puzzled. Then, a few days later, I came to my conclusion: It must have entered my apartment when I loaded up my car because I had the kitchen door propped open.
So, kids, the moral of the story is, never ever ever leave your door propped open when you are loading your car!!!!!
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