Down the rabbit hole Thursday, October 29, 2009
I can now check a whole 'nother round of things off my to-do list: take a last minute long weekend to see a man, eat some cheesecurds, drink out of a boot. Yes, I'm living my life like a character from The Bucket List. At some point this last year I realized, what the fuck am I waiting for? Hence the jumping out of a plane, trip to England and Ireland and now an impromptu visit to see a guy I used to date. He knew I was coming, it was like a sneak attack or stalking- I promise.It has always sounded deliciously romantic and straight out of the movies to make last minute plans and jump on a plane to go see someone. It was exciting and fun, and as a bonus I only had 3! days to worry about whether or not I looked cute enough or if my ass has grown since the last time I saw him (it has) and he'll be horrified (if it did he didn't act like it).
As a friend pointed out this was like an Alice in Wonderland trip, everything seemed to have an oversized theme to it. First there was the oversized chair we sat in at Lake Mendota Terrace, the giant ostrich egg I bought at the farmers market (because who could pass a thing like that up? Not I.) to the enormous boot of beer at The Essen House. Apparently everything is bigger in Wisconsin, who knew?
To back things up a bit, I had to get up ridiculously early and so by about 6:45am I was sitting in the Chicago airport getting some breakfast- I asked for a cup of tea and shot of whiskey, a classic hot toddy. The waiter looked completely horrified, like i had just told him I like to hang puppy dogs by their tails. First off I had a scratchy throat from breathing dry airplane air and I thought a drink my calm my fluttering stomach. So the waiter haughtily informs me that it is entirely too early for him to serve me alcohol and walks off. Whatever dude, fuck you.
Now when I get to Milwaukee I had about an hour to kill so I try again, this time I start chatting with the bartender and relay my story of getting shot down in Chicago. She pats my hand and says "Honey, this is Wisconsin, we love to drink." as she is serving up my bourbon on the rocks. Guess what, I didn't get tipsy it just slowed down my nervous mind and from then on out I was golden.
The nerves were completely unfounded because even with the two years since we'd seen each other last it was just fine. I think he was doing his damnest to prove to me that Madison was the awesomest since he's been touting in emails since he moved there. I have to say he's a damn fine tour guide (in addition to being damn fine), I got to see both terraces (Madison is flanked by to big lakes), the capitol building, the farmers market, 2 breweries, an apple farm and then other random assorted sites. I drank a ridiculous amount of beer, ate cheese curds, part of an ostrich egg, a burger that had bacon, beef AND and bratwurst on a pretzel bun and watched my beloved Browns get their asses kicked by Green Bay. Ok, so that last part wasn't awesome, but I'm a Cleveland fan- disappointment runs in our blood.
It is possible that I fell a little bit in love with Madison*.
Really, how could I not?
*Ok, I realize that I said the exact same thing about Ireland- but Ireland and I are full blown in love, Madison and I need to get to know each other a little better before proper declarations are made.
Labels: Awesomeness, beer, dating, drinking, drunken shenanagans, vacation
Tin Friday, July 24, 2009
Do you know what is elementally boring?Re-introducing yourself via email to a bunch of dates from an online dating site. Over and over I feel like I'm basically coughing up the same information (job, social activities, where I'm from, etc). It's absolutely monotonous and has been sucking up all my creative energy.
Yet, I was so tired of being dateless I thought I'd give it a shot. I did have one date (actually two- because I believe in second chances) but there just wasn't any chemistry. I emailed with a couple other dudes but one fizzled (he started dating someone else), dude 3 and I have nothing in common and then I never heard back from that 4th guy. The 5th guy was one of those asshats who used someone else's photo, which means he's either married or a serial killer.
That isn't even counting all the other dudes I sent emails to that never responded. I'm slightly embarrassed to post the number here since it's a lot. WTF?
Entirely unspectacular. And makes me feel a bit like a dating failure. Which is always a good time! Whee! Failure, sweet, sweet failure.
The thing is that, a good portion of the time, I'm entirely content to be alone. It is nice not to have to take anyone else's wants or needs into consideration, being entirely selfish isn't a bad thing- it's the only thing. But being with someone is nice, and I've not had someone regular in my life since the spectacular flame out of my last relationship.
I've got a few simple rules for selecting dudes online,
1. Do you mention "playing games", "looking for an honest woman who doesn't lie" in the first sentence of your profile? No thanks. Clearly you've got some issues and are leading with that, it may be important to you to have trust and honesty in relationship but starting off with it screams 'I just got cheated on big time and am going to be suspicious of everything you do or say.' I totally realize this is a blanket statement and will not apply to everyone but it certainly sends up red flags.
2. Are all your pictures of you and your motorcycle (or truck)? I get it, you like your car, it doesn't impress me much. How about showing me some variety?
3. Are you shirtless and taking a photo of yourself in a mirror (with the camera clearly visible)? Yeah, this is not cool. Chances are your chest is fine, maybe even perfectly well built but really it's not going to make me like you better just because you took your top off. Have some respect, man.
4. Can you speak in clear and coherent sentences with a varied vocabulary and perhaps a pithy comment or two? CHECK PLUS for you, this is awesome.
And so the search continues.
Labels: dating
Kilter Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Woah, that last entry was more than a bit incoherent. Unfortunately I was not drinking so I can't even blame it on that. Rather I think it was pure distraction from trying to watch TV while write.This entry will, unfortunately not be filled with pithy transitions or even one thread to tie all the elements together instead I'm probably going to be listing and bunch of random shit that has been running through my head.
"Purity Balls" are hilarious. The weird fetishization of female virginity aside it's the inclusion of the word "balls" that makes me giggle. Balls are always funny. ALWAYS. Even more so when used in conjunction with the whole sexual bent of a virginity promise.
While we are in a sexual state of mind, I've said it before and I'll say it again...I need a date. I've even checked out the online sites and it's stagnant water. What the hell is up with guys who don't like women who are assertive or bold? Clearly, this dame isn't any sort of wallflower.
My bottom is already killing me from tonight's workout. Tomorrow and Thursday are probably going to be pure hell.
It's warm out and therefore all I want to do is drink beer. Cold, delicious beer.
I've decided to use the money from the accident to pay off part of my credit card. I've been slowly chipping away at my sort of smallish balance I've been carrying, this will help me put a decent dent in it. I have weird feelings about it because I feel like I should be getting the car fixed but it's an older car so why should I care if the paint is peeling off the left corner of the back bumper? It isn't like the front bumper isn't losing a good portion of it's paint already, so what is up with the conflicted feelings?
I hate all the clothes in my closet.
Oversharing. It's awesome. Thursday, February 19, 2009
I've lately decided besides all the nice normal reasons for wanting a boyfriend (love, sex, companionship- i.e. the basics) there would be some definite other upsides to having someone else around.1. At least it wouldn't seem like I was talking to myself at home, I could just pretend I was actually talking to the other person.
2. Someone to put lotion on the spot of your back that you can't reach no matter which way you try to contort yourself. Seriously, WTF is with this section always being exceptionally dry and hurty and itchy. It's a real fucking pisser.
3. Cheer with me while I watch sports (uh, hopefully we like the same teams). I realize this is sort of related to #1. Plus this will keep me from eating all the hanky panks myself.
4. Have you ever tried to flip a queen size mattress on your own? It's unbelievably hard (that's what she said!...sorry, I couldn't resist) and one of these days I fully expect mid-flippage that I'll lose my grip on it and the entire thing will come crashing down and pin me against the floor. And when I call for help there will be no one to hear me, perhaps I should just get a Med-Alert call button for situations like this?
5. Someone else to peek outside when they hear some loud banging noise that cannot be identified. About 50% of the time I'm fully convinced that I'll pull back the shade and there will be a serial killer standing there banging my trashcan lid against the grill. It would be nice if someone else could look outside and tell me to stop being such a crazy.
6. I'm absolutely worried that this last one will make you think I'm a total freak, more freaktastic than someone who wants a boyfriend to rub lotion on her back and check the backyard for scary axe wielding murders while she talks to herself. Every so often (a couple of days after a hard workout) it would be nice if someone rubbed my bottom. Yes, right. The bottom area or not so delicately: my ass. I can't help it. It gets tight and sore and my hamstrings feel like the are being shredded every time I move ( I know hamstrings are not located in the bottom- but they are connected and it all hurts so I include them). Oh and I stretch all the time. I try to get massages once a month to help keep injuries at bay (do this, it's magical how many fewer injuries I get) and I always make sure to ask that they "loosen up my hips, whicharetightfromrunning". Oh holy fuck, this totally makes it sound like I'm going to some back alley "massage parlor" looking for sex instead of a real massage. Damnit. I give up. I probably should delete this whole last one and just call it a fucking day and be done with it.
In summation, my butt gets sore from working out, it would be nice if my hypothetical boyfriend would like to occasionally make it feel better. THE END.
Labels: dating, embarassing, gym, running, triathlon
yeah, some stuff... Monday, April 07, 2008
First off, I'm glad my boys of summer finally pulled their shit together sunday afternoon and racked up a win against Oakland. And with three losses under their belts (from both the White Sox and the A's) it's not exactly the start to the the season I was dreaming of this long cold winter. They'll be back in the latter half of the week to play the A's again after a 3-game series with the Angels.Of course lately I've been all-sad-girl-dating-reject and spewing my sad-girl-dating-reject-ness all over my wonderful friends who listen. As evidence I present this IM convo I had with Kate:
me: I'm just feeling very "wah, wah...sad" girl lately. I don't want to be that awesome girl into my thirties though who everyone thinks is great but is still alone and terribly lonely.
Kate: your thirties are pretty far away, man!
me: 1.5 years. KATE WE ARE ALMOST 29!
Kate: 1.5 years is a loooooooooooooooooooong time!
me: Ugh, but at this rate I'll be 87 before I find a man. And then only because all the other girls are dead and they have to like me.
Kate: HA! omg.
I left out the part where I dramatically talk about shooting myself if this new girl in town ends up with a boyfriend before I do.
THERE IS A BOYFRIEND QUEUE PEOPLE. Line forms behind Skeezix.
Ok, not really. And I'm massively happy for anyone who finds love or a shag partner or whatever in this town.
What? Yes, I know I'm only 28 and that my thirties could be a very rich time for dating. But the dating pool in this town is pretty damn small, fuck, it might qualify as a kiddie pool. And not one of those awesome inflatable kiddie pools rather one of those molded plastic ones that are blue with frogs printed on the inside of it. You know the ones I'm talking about, they hold like a gallon of water. Lest you think that I'm kidding about the smallness of the pool, I'm quickly butting up again the maximum saturation point that allows for a comfortable degree of separation of sexual partners and friends. In my ideal world there would be at least 3 people separating me and my friends in the sexual realm. Yet, I'm hovering close to two people separating some of us. And I'm not even that slutty!
My friends, on the other hand, are total whores.
Ok, I lie. They aren't whores, almost every single one of them are all in stable, loving relationships. Which does occasionally make being the single girl out a little bit harder because they make being in/finding a relationship look so blastedly easy. And it's not, dudes. It's not.
But since I've already shared one IM conversation I feel can share TWO, and in it's perfection I would like to leave you with it as a parting thought. This is the reply my friend Tom sent me after I called him pervy:
"And yes, I like to dress like US House Speaker Nancy Pelosi and then get spanked with a rolled up copy of The Wall Street Journal, while my sweaty babe yells "House on fie, house on fire, put it out, put it out!""
PS. I feel I should tell you all I wrote this earlier in the day. Then I went out for happy hour and got a little drunk. Now I find everything hilariously awesome.
Labels: Awesomeness, beer, dating
Lots random bits...most rant-filled Tuesday, March 18, 2008
So terribly I had my heart broken this last weekend by the boy I mentioned way back in January. Privately, there was lots of crying. Oh the crying. It went on and on. The next morning I looked like I had been beaten roundly about the eyes. They were so puff-tastic they were doing that thing were they have become so swollen it actually looks like your eye lashes have curved under and are now growing from inside the lid.I don't know if I'm stuck in a place of total and complete denial but I'm actually doing quite ok these last 2 days. The distraction of work has had a soothing effect on my psyche, so really I'm going to keep going forward with the plan to remain wickedly busy in order to hold my shit together.
Enough of the self-pitying rambling, lets engage in a little bit of ranting- shall we?
First off I'd like to take a brick to any tv chef who utters the words "Pre- (insert word here)". This could be used in reference to a multitude of sins, "pre-shredded cheese", "pre-washed greens", "pre-cooked chicken", etc.
Listen people, pre-shredded cheese is in fact a BLOCK OF CHEESE. Pre-cooked chicken is RAW CHICKEN.
The prefix "Pre" refers to the state of the item before you performed the action. This is simple English usage, and baby Jesus knows I'm not the best with complicated English rules- but this is a fairly simple concept to grasp.
Why use the term "pre-shredded"? Some marketing genius somehow believed that it added a certain value or cache to their product, or perhaps someone thought it made them sound cool and like they were giving you a hint on how to cut down time in the kitchen.
It's dumb. It pisses me off. The end.
In that same vein of stupidity put forth by marketing and advertising geniuses; I say that knowing full well I work in the marketing world- we're great but some of the shit we come up with is completely fucking ridiculous, as evidenced by the following:
Really, 100% Beef?
What is your implication here? Perhaps before you didn't used 100% Beef? Do I really want to conjure up ideas about what you were using before you loudly declared that you use 100% beef?
Or are you trying to imply that your competitors don't use 100% beef in their hamburger patties?
The simple fact is that you could have used this term effectively for me if you'd added the qualifier 'American' or 'Grade A', but there is also the distinct possibility that you can't make that claim at all. I don't know where McDonald's beef comes from or what grade it is. This is all part of their new "healthy and fresh" makeover that they are trying to give us. For me, it doesn't work. I will never go to McDonald's and think that I'm eating healthy. I go to fast food joints for the exact opposite reason, sometimes one needs a bit of greasy, fat-filled food with a large fountain coke. (The perfect cure for those wickedly bad hangovers.)
This whole thing made me tool about on their website, and I have to say I'm annoyed by the implication that only mom's eat salads. Men eat salads, damnit. Why couldn't you have phrased that as "parents who bring their kids in for a happy meal." Eating salad is GIRLY, way to reinforce dumbass stereotypes. Men don't eat vegetables!
And lastly, 1 in 4 teenage girls has an STD. OH! SCARY! Lets talk about how 1 in 4 teenage girls have STDs, AND NEVER FUCKING MENTION HOW MANY TEENAGE BOYS HAVE STDs. I'm not some crazyass feminist conspiracy theorist but come on! Those teenage girls aren't giving STDs to each other, they are only half the equation. But no is talking about the boys and their STD rates, to me it just smacks of shaming female sexuality and blaming them for when really it takes two to get an STD. Why aren't we having an open discussion about males and their rate of infection? In all the articles I read and news stories I saw never once did anyone bring up teenage boys.
Labels: dating, embarassing, food
Nuts! Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Lets discuss that my favorite show, Jericho is back. With a nod to it's fans it showed a character eating peanuts in the first couple of minutes. Whoohoo. That is how you treat your fans. You also treat them right by giving them a kick ass episode, with lots of Skeet and Stanley and Mimi. Toss in some Heather too (I could use more though) and I'm a happy girl.Not so much the Emily. She's still a dumbass, who can't bake a cake.
Also the whole Stanley/Mimi proposal scene made me cry. Cry like I was being the one proposed too. It was awesome. I covet Mimi's skin. She has that beautiful healthy glow with lots of freckles. As someone who recently re-discovered her freckles this summer (I didn't get them for 10 years) I am covetous. I'm sad that I don't have them now that I'm trapped in the dregs of winter.
And since I'm lacking a perfect transition I'll just throw myself into another topic entirely without regard to flow. What? You don't want to hear me talk about dating again? Tough.
Recently I was reading a popular online magazine and the discussion of who pays for what on a date came up. I have to say I was SHOCKED at some of the responses from women. There was no shortage of women who would refuse a second date with a man if they took them up on their offer of going dutch. Really?
You offered, what is so wrong about them accepting it?
I don't know, personally I've always preferred going dutch on dates...at least in the beginning. For me it's about the sense of independence I've had ingrained into my psyche since I was a little girl. I come from the school of thought that I can pay for my own damn dinner, thank you very much. At Christmas time I went out with a male friend and he was totally shocked when at the end of the night I pulled out my wallet to pay for my share of drinks. He kept saying "But you are a girl you don't pay for things, right?!" At some point I missed the memo that said no penis = not having to pay for your drinks.
There was also more than a few who thought that the man should pay for dinner because he is getting the pleasure of her company. Ok, why not just call your self a hooker and be done with it?
I don't know, maybe that was harsh?
I think there is entirely too many expectations of what the other person should and should not do, sometimes it feels impossible to get it right. But perhaps you have to believe it will all shake out correctly in the end?
New Year's Eve Confession Monday, December 31, 2007
There are things that sometimes I want to write about yet I keep them mum. Mostly because if I never talk about them then I won't have to re-read entries and be disappointed that it might have gone wrong or embarassed at my feelings. But that is some sort of self-censorship that I think really might not do me any favors in the end. Perhaps I'm just feeling contemplative about everything since the new year is upon us. I tend to get a bit blue and sad around the new year. It is odd but every year starts this way and over the years I've just come to accept it.I've been preoccupied lately and have found that I cannot seem to put words down onto paper. Instead I've caught myself staring out into space completely lost in thought without having done a single damn thing.
Right now I'm finding myself with a big ol' crush on a friend of mine. Luckily the feeling is mutual, but still a little scary and new and fluttery. The upside is that because of the fluttery stomach I've barely been able to eat and thus managed to avoid packing in the holiday treats. Although you know you haven't eaten much when your new soon-to-be sister-in-law comments that you barely have any Christmas dinner on your plate. And that really is a crime isn't it? All of that delicious turkey that I couldn't bear to eat.
I've been making a valiant effort at trying not get ahead of myself and instead just enjoy what we've got. But the scaredy cat feeling is still alive and kicking. Just under the surface.
Lately I've been listening to Dan Savage's podcast and he is a genius. Plus listening to his podcasts at work makes me feel a little bit subversive since no one else knows that I've got Dan Savage saying dirty, dirty things into my ear. I've picked up a few sayings from him, my current favorite being "Every relationship fails until the one that doesn't."
Which is so true and often so easy to lose sight of. If this goes downhill I'll do what I've done before...lick my wounds and then pick myself up off the floor brushing off the cookie crumbs, throw away the empty wine bottles, comb my nattered hair and give someone else a shot.
For now though I'm focusing on the soft little squiggly melty feeling I get when he asks to hold my hand after spending the night being run through the gauntlet that is meeting my friends.
In fact Holly over at Nothing But Bonfires wrote about a quote that really seems to speak to me. And since I know that I'll never be able to eloquently re-phrase what she has already put so well, I'll just link to it for the sake of saving you all from my attempt
Ali Smith "In the end, everything simply began."
I think that is the nice thought to begin the new year. Happy New Year to everyone!
Labels: Awesomeness, dating
Choices Wednesday, December 05, 2007
Two roads diverged in a wood...Ok, I had to do it. Robert Frost created such a perfect metaphor that I (and of course everyone else who's ever heard the poem) just can't resist to use it when talking about choices. Trite and overused, just deal with it.
My choice last night was not of epic proportions, rather the decision to either have multiple glasses of wine and become slightly inebriated or go to the gym and sweat my ass off. Why would this be such an choice that could effect one's overall mood?
Oh, because I just got dissed by my date. Or dumped or however you want to phrase it. After he bailed on Saturday's date (it was to be our first official one even though we'd been sort of involved already) he then turned around and called me last night to tell me that he's been hanging out with someone else he really, really likes and wants to focus on that. Did he mention that he really likes her? Really likes.
Ok, dude, I get the message. You like this other chick, thanks for repeating over and over again that you like her so.much.more.than.me.
So then came the choice, drink or gym. The choice for me was fairly easy, I was going to go with the alcohol route. Then while trying to peel some hardboiled eggs, which I subsequentally mauled beyond all reason, I realized that I had some excess anger energy to work out.
So I threw on my gym clothes and over an hour later I felt so much better. I left the gym feeling clean and awesome. I was lighter mentally and knew that in the end it was the best decision I could have made.
Then to come down from the endorphin high I had several glasses of wine and eventually slept like a baby.
Voodoo Sunday, December 02, 2007
So over the years I've developed several pre-date rituals. I'm calling them rituals because it sounds fancier habits, and I like fancy.1. Polishing my jewelry.
Ok, so I know this may seem very weird but since I go on dates about once a month (on average, exempting that outlying period where I didn't date at all for a very.long.time. Which in retrospect seriously sucked.) it always seems like a good time to remember that I've not polished my jewelry. Not that I'm dripping in Zsa Zsa Gabor like accourtamonts but rather everyday I wear the same silver necklace and silver ring. They get very dingy over time since I never take them off so a good polishing is in order at least once a month. Also a sparkling silver necklace will bring my dates eyes to my cleavage and that is always a good thing, no?
2. Showering and Shaving.
I know this seems seriously obvious and one would hope that all your dates have showered recently, but really it's the shaving that is important here. Yes, I know that some women go in for the whole 'chastity pelt' to keep them from getting frisky on the first date. Simply taking the time to shave my legs insures that I will not be getting any nookie because fate is cruel bitch like that or there is always the chance that if fate does decide to play nice I'll be ready to go.
3. Pre-planning outfits.
Again, for some people this is a given. I tend to go through periods of seriously hating everything I own deeming it either ill-fitting or boring. This is not always successful because there are times where the pre-planned outfit just doesn't work for me. Those days are the worst, because I can manage to destroy my whole bedroom in matter of a few minutes. In fact just the other night I had a Fashion Show! Fashion Show at lunch! except you know, at night. I had my heart set on this adorable dress but in the end the store didn't carry a petite size and the regular was just too long and slightly too big. I was worried that after going through the whole Parkersburg mall, their Old Navy and TJ Maxx that I had just bought the least ugly outfit I tried on, which is why Kate so graciously let me come over and dork out with a fashion show to make sure I looked ok. Afterwards I was worried that her boyfriend might have made serious fun of me since he was a witness to the fashion show, Kate assures me that he did not.
4. Go to the gym
I always feel much more confident and pretty if I've put in a long hard session at the gym. It always does the trick, and I feel no need to expound on my love for working out since I've already done that in enough posts.
Unfortunately all this pre-date voodoo in no way ensures that your date won't call a couple of hours before meeting and beg off because he's not feeling well.
Then a whole 'nother sort of thing is called for, one usually involving a stiff drink and perhaps some bacon. Because bacon and alcohol are the best ways to get over a broken date, hell, I think they are probably a pretty damn good cure for most mental black moods. Maybe throw in a little Skeet Ulrich and I'll forget all about what's his face- even if just temporarily.
Or your friends will graciously allow you to crash their date night and ply you with champagne and pizza and trivial pursuit.
Labels: dating
Martini Sunday Monday, November 05, 2007
I've decided to institute a new policy at Chez Skeezix, Martini Sunday. Every Sunday afternoon I will whip a martini to drink. Down it will go, thus soothing the pain that comes from knowing I have to go to work tomorrow.At least that is the theory.
I love a good dirty martini but mine never seem to come out as delicious as the ones I get at bars, why is that? It's like they sprinkle some magical fairy dust over the drinks before they arrive at the table or the alternate theory is that I'm just a terrible bartender.
I came up with the lovely idea of Martini Sunday after having to go into work yesterday. Yes, a Sunday workday. Which absolutely blew. I hate working on the weekends for the man, the only acceptable weekend working I can do is for freelance. Freelance money is nice. Come to me freelance. I love you.
On Friday night some my friends met out for happy hour, some played pool and other (ahem, me) just sat at the table drinking beer and after beer. Yumi and I decided to head down for a hot dog, delicious little hot dog sent from heaven. And since I wasn't ready to call it a night we went next door to play some darts. Not only did I win twice but I beat Yumi, which since she is a pretty kick ass dart player made my night.
Not making my night was the guy who hit on me at the bar, within the first few minutes he says- in response to my question of what he does for a living- "I work in construction, contracting for the government. Basically I rape the government."
Uh, wow.
Then he proceeds to tell me he hates Al Gore (after I say I love him) and doesn't believe in global warming. At that point I tell him I can't talk to him anymore. He's said entirely too many things I just can't abide and he goes back to his friends at the bar.
It may seem that I'm blunt and brutal but I've gotten to the point that I'm not wasting any more time feigning interest in people who I clearly am not going to get along with. Ever. Plus I'm nailing down more and more what I'm looking for and someone who doesn't believe in global warming and "rapes the government" is not it.
Oh, for the love of Christ. Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Sarah , pointed out this article and apparently national weeklong holiday to celebrate being single. She has a brillant post on it and since she is vastly superior writer than I am I'll let you read her recap/rant about it with only adding these few choice thoughts of my own:First, it makes me sad to be an Ohioan since a group of them started this bullshit. And secondly it makes me sad to be a member of the human race when someone tells me this is my week to "hang out with friends and go get a great haircut!"
I didn't know I was supposed to be limiting my haircuts to once a year or my ability to hang out with friends to one single week. Assholes.
I guess after this Saturday I should shutter myself away in hermatic solitude.
Labels: dating
Staccato Thursday, August 30, 2007
I'm exhausted. From dating.For real. It's mentally tasking to talk and talk and talk about yourself (or them) and possibly have it lead no where and have to repeat the whole process again in a few weeks. Maybe my apathy is an indicator that the upcoming date I've got might not go well. I'm trying not shoot myself in the foot here, but this is the third date I've had in the last month and half and I'm worried I'm nearing jaded.
Which doesn't sound like a lot, but really, for this town it practically makes me a jezabell-esque sloot. If this doesn't pan out well, then I might have to give the actively dating scene a rest. And yes, I've heard it always happens when you've stopped looking but really that's bullshit because I didn't look for damn near three years and all I got out of it what some serious pent up sexual tension.
And then there is the funny, apparently gravational pull, that the last guy I really liked and I seem to have towards each other. In the last week I've run into him no less than 4 times, and this is a guy I hadn't run into for a least a month. I'm pretty sure that he's about to get a restraining order, but that could be because I like to stand outside his bedroom window at night and stare at him.
That is going to be the thought I'm going to leave you with for this long holiday weekend, I'm off work tomorrow for a lovely 4 day weekend so I hope everyone enjoys their annual break from labor. Drink up.
Labels: dating
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Indulge me a bit while I ramble on and on about dating. I know you've listened to me about this very subject already, but I've got more to say.Over the last 6 months I've been a bit quiet about the subject entirely. I've started countless posts about it, and in fact this one might well end up filed away as another draft. But maybe this time I'll manage to fit all of my feelings into a pretty little concise box.
As part of an effort to broaden my horizons I decided that I was going to date men outside of my comfort zone. I'm not talking shiv welding former inmates, but more like the quirky, slightly androgynous guy. I've been taking chances, being more bold. A little more saucy rather than cautious.
And it has paid off, sort of. Gentleman #1 was lovely, and I thought we had a good time but in the end he was uninterested in me as he didn't return my phone call. It's cool though, since we were friends before and remain friends after. I'll admit it took me a couple of weeks to get back to that point but it is amazing what happens when you start dating someone else, voila! you can instantly become friends again because you are so interested in getting into another man's pants.
Gentleman #2, all talk and no action. This happens a lot with internet dating websites. You exchange emails for a little while and then it just fizzles. I've got a couple of theories as to why this happens, one being they met someone else and two being that after a certain period of time if you've not met it just isn't going to happen.
Which in Gentleman #2's case might have been partly my fault. I was in Cleveland for my grandfather's funeral and had to back out of two dates with this guy because I got snowed in for much longer than I expected. He never responded to my email about rescheduling.
But then I met Gentleman #3, and it was on. He was lovely, smart, funny and cute. This dude was a direct result of me taking a risk and emailing him out of the blue (on myspace). So what happened?
Wisconsin happened.
Fucking cheeseheads. (I say that with the most love though because some of my favorite people live in Wisconsin, and lord knows I love the cheese.)
He got a job offer in Madison and that was the end of that.
I took some time off after that, to lick my wounds and all that bullshit. And I've been trying to get back into the swing of things. But I just can't. I feel stalled. Uninterested.
It isn't that I'm hung up on Gentleman #3, but every other guy I've come across is just lacking something that makes me want to take that step forward.
It is not a lack of self confidence, it is really a lack of interest. Right now I just don't feel like I have the energy to put myself out there, to even go on those bad dates that you know will be great for your bad date archive of hilarious stories. I'd much rather be biking.
Labels: dating
