Getting Single...

Lingering

2011-05-03T10:33:00.000-07:00

There are some people in the world that live "zen-ly" (and yes, I'm aware I'm totally making that word up). They live 'now', with yesterday being what it was, and tomorrow what it will be.

I've always struggled with this aspect of my life, because I find a lot of the times, that the 'now' I live is spent lingering over what happened in the past, trying to find what went wrong, what went right, so as to duplicate or not duplicate it in the future. It's hard to appreciate now for what it is.

I have spent the better part of nearly a decade trying to find that place in me that exists "right now" and I'm happy to say that I've been somewhat successful. I allow myself to enjoy and feel the moment I'm in but I gotta say, I wish that I could fast forward and get the hell outta right now.

Right now sucks. Right now hurts. Right now is so... unsteady, unbalanced, uncertain.
H2.0 and I are working on us. He's one of those that has no challenge living in the now, and so when he expressed his doubts - his continued lingering doubts - that he wasn't sure we'd get back what we lost, it sent a wave of angst, sadness, fear, leaving me feeling seasick and nauseous. For about the last 2 months, that's the only feeling I seem to feel. If he of all people could question our future, how could I be so certain of it?

He says now his doubts are fading, that he feels we're getting back on track. So why then as his doubts fade, do mine seem to double? Why can't I believe him? I can't decide if it's my inner-self protecting me, or the Banshee resurfacing, the jaded cynical bitch that she is.

I over analyze everything he says. Everything he doesn't say. Every look, every gesture, every move he makes I look for a deeper meaning.

He didn't say I love you when he left... Of course he doesn't love me. Of course you're being ridiculous.

He didn't return my text message. I'm annoying him. Of course you're being ridiculous.

This is a sample of what floats around up there in the ole noggin of mine. And it's driving me crazy. I know it will take time for us to be like us again, but what if we're never like us again? What if he never loves me the way he used to?

I think that's my struggle. What if, then what? I'm trying so hard to get us through this and on to a better place because I can't stand living this right now.

So much for living zen-ly, huh...

So Where Am I?

2011-04-09T10:28:00.000-07:00

Life's a funny thing.

It's filled with hope and dreams, and mired by the everyday bullshit that seem to get in the way of those aspirations coming true. But sometimes, you get all that you hoped for. Your dreams do come true.

And sometimes, despite life going the way you planned, it suddenly doesn't anymore. Circumstances beyond your control arise. You trudge forward, blindly, realizing you didn't have a contingency plan for when shit don't go the way you expected. The next thing you know, you're in the middle of a mine field, and they're all about to blow.

Excellent.

For the last 6 months, I've been in the middle of that mine field. For the last 2 years, I've been trudging forward, dragging my best friend and love of my life through it with me, until suddenly, I find myself faced with him telling me that this wasn't what he thought we were getting into and he's not sure we can make it out together.

Death, family, car accidents, home buying, quitting jobs, starting businesses, settling into a new place and everyday life crap, all happening the whirlwind span of about a year, is enough to do almost anyone in. And it's nearly done us in, too.

I've been figuratively punched in the stomach repeatedly, had the wind knocked out of me, my foundation rocked to the core and writing about my single life hardly seemed the thing to focus on.

H2.0 and I have had a really rough time dealing with things. I say things, because it's not like it's something like an affair or hatefullness as much as it was a growing distance because so many life things kept getting in the way of us. My grief. My mother. My business. My anxiety of how to make everything fit together into this nice little package all tied up in a pretty pink bow.

Guess what? Life is fucking messy. And it has one hell of a sense of humor, if you can even find the funny side of your partner saying he's not sure he wants to be married anymore.

H2.0 and I have always relished the "simple" life. We always enjoyed the little things, the little joys, and weren't the type of people who looked forward to the "big vacation" or the "big new car" - that stuff wasn't important. What was important was time. Relishing the tastes of a home cooked meal, followed by a movie, cozied up together on the couch. Sleeping in, coffee, talking about the world around us, enjoying the great outdoors.

Life has been anything but simple since my father died. I hate that he died. Every single day I hate that he's not here. I try not to be angry, and let some his last words (take care of your mother) grow resentment inside me towards him, or her. Loving him the way I did, and having the issues with her that I did, I spent every ounce of energy I had, trying to nurture a mother daughter relationship that had never before existed because he asked me to. I did not want to have regrets the way I have with my dad. I let my resentment of her, keep me from him and I hate that about my choice.

And now, here I am, 2 years later, resenting her all over again because she is a huge part of why H2.0 and I are here where we are. I had been forced to choose one over the other and I made him feel like I would always choose her.

At what cost? When I recently told her about the problems we were having, it had been an emotionally devastating day. What stands out wasn't the comfort she gave, because there was none. No hugs. No it will be okay. No anything. She is incapable of that. I know this. I've always known this. And the one person who is capable of love and support had been thrown under the bus so I could try and make her happy.

I fucking hate myself for that. I fucking hate it.

And so now, for the last few months, I've been spending a tremendous amount of time looking inward, again, to find the parts of me that I've lost - picking up the pieces of me that are strewn all over this battle field. Trying to put back together the person that my husband fell in love with, the person I know myself to be.

Together, we are working on finding each other, because this road had taken its toll on both of us. We're apprehensive. Scared. Unsure of ourselves together as a partnership.

So here's what I know:

Communication. For the love of god, people, do not keep your feelings from your partner no matter what stage of the relationship you are in. H2.0 bottled up his feelings about how all this made him feel until it had ripened into resentment. Resentment, is a very hard thing to remove and forget. It's the worse kind of cancer and it will kill you. So many people I know, are afraid to talk to their partners about even the smallest of things. Secrets and feelings have a way of getting bigger when buried and kept under wraps.

Love. Don't forget your love. Don't become complacent and let unimportant things get in the way of your love. Trust me, the toilet will still be dirty tomorrow. And the next day. And the day after that. And you know what? No one will really care.

Fun and happiness. Seems frivolous and like the icing on the cake. Fun and happiness should BE the cake. life is too damn short to let bullshit be the cake. Reverse the pyramid folks, biggest piece of the pie should be as much fun and happiness as you can muster, while not letting the major life responsibilities falter. And for the record, deciding what paint color to paint the bedroom is NOT a major life responsibility.

The Little Things. You hear it all the time. "It's about the little things." Have you ever stopped to consider what those little things actually are? I think all too often we as a society focus our attention on the wrong "little things". When was the last time you and your partner just sat outside and watched the sunset holding hands. Why is that something that only happens on a vacation? When did you last really taste your food? when was the last time you and your partner actually conversed over dinner? I can't tell you how many couples I have seen out on a "date" and both on their phones, texting, browsing the web. For fuck's sake people... turn that shit off. Those are the little things you may be missing. Enjoy them. Relish them. Stop and listen to the birds, smell the flowers, look up at the clouds, look at the world around you. Stop running at such a frantic pace that you miss the little joys that surround you every single moment of every single day.

Appreciation. Say thank you. Don't expect that your partner will just take out the trash because it's full. It's easy to come to expect something out of someone just because they always do it. It doesn't mean they enjoy always doing it, they may being doing so because they know it just needs to get done. Saying thank you makes some of those thankless tasks seem less... thankless.

And finally, find your joy. It's easy to lose your joy when you're always trying to bring joy to someone else. First, realize, there are some who will never be joyful and happy, no matter how hard you try. They will only suck your joy and happiness to bring you down to their misery; afterall, it loves company. Practice self-care and share your joy and love with those that are capable of reciprocating. This is not to say you cut out or off those that don't show the love, but you have to be careful you're not doling out more than you can afford to give them. This piece of advice was actually something shared with me by the therapist I saw after my dad passed away in helping find ways to deal with my mother. She warned me of this happening. I clearly failed to hear her advice or at least put it into practice. I finally understand how destructive my behavior has been not only to myself, but to my husband. I gave all my joy to my mother, trying to make her happy, leaving little to nothing for him, or myself.

And so, that's where I'm at. I've been to the bottom of a really shitty place for awhile, and finally, am on my way back out. H2.0 and I are mending, and it's painful. It's hard to know where we've been and sad to see where we are now. We both mourn what we've lost and are working to rebuild on our foundation.

So you'll have to forgive me when I say, I'm not writing about the single life anymore. That part of my life is over, and it has been for awhile now.

As far as Lucas goes, he was a freak who ended up in my bed half naked, begging me to tweak his nipples. Needless to say, we did not hook up or date for that matter. He was bitter, and eventually got over it.

H2.0 and I met about 3 months later and it's been the most amazing 6 years I've ever lived. Despite the crap and the struggles we've had the last 2, I've never ever not wanted to be with him. I've never ever thought that we couldn't get through anything, this included. It's just been terrifying to think that he, he who has always been the rock, who is always so sure of everything in life, has been the one to be unsure. That has been the hardest part.

At some point, I'd like to come back and tell you how it is we met and fell in love, because it's an amazing story. But for now, I'm prioritizing things, and he and I come out on top this time.

Research and Development

2010-10-21T09:26:00.000-07:00

I'm sorry, but folks over at Sony's R&D department clearly didn't think through this design:

Because that looks a little too much like this:

Just sayin'...

The Versatile Blogger...

2010-10-11T20:50:00.000-07:00

So, Wynn bestowed this little gem upon me, and seeing it's an award after all, I would like to thank ~~the academy~~ the girlz, and all the jerks I used to date. Without them, this blog would be nothing more than stories of me sitting alone, in the dark, eating spoonfuls of peanut butter dipped in a bag of chocolate chips, listening to emo music feeling sorry for myself.

I should probably say thanks to Joe, too, because he's the real reason I'm at the place I am in life. Had he not been an asshole, and the two of not clearly NOT MFEO, I'd probably be some fat housewife with 3 no good kids and a drunk absentee husband and father. Now THAT could've made a good blog... but I digress.

Part of accepting this award requires that I share 7 things with you that you *don't already know*... I'm not sure there is anything you guys don't know about me. Well, there are those truly personal details, like sexual escapades... oh wait. No, that's clearly not me. I'm the kinda tramp that kisses and tells everything.

So. In no particular order of importance - 7 things you probably didn't know about me:

1) I have an unhealthy obsession with things you can put things in. The Container Store? Storables? The home organization section of IKEA? Chez Larsson? All cause heart palpitations. I LOVE storage crap and repurposing vintage things into creative one of a kind storage. H2.0 thinks I'm crazy.

2) My storage unit currently is home to my childhood doll collection which includes all gazillion of the original Strawberry Shortcake Dolls and pets as well as every Cabbage Patch Kid from the 80s ever imaginable. The dolls live in Rubbermaid tubs, standing upright, so when you open the lid, their little faces stare up at you, their cloth arms reaching skyward, begging for you to love them. H2.0 thinks I'm crazy.

3) I think french fries are a perfectly acceptable dessert. In fact, I'd rather eat something salty, like a bag of chips than cake or candy at any given time. I have a salt tooth, I guess. Oddly, I do not like making french fries at home, and I love baking cookies. Go fig.

4) I do not have style. I have clothes. I realized this a few years ago with the start of What Not to Wear. I'm one of those people who has a wardrobe filled with clothes and nothing really "goes". I don't have one of those mix-n-match wardrobes that I can just throw together a hundred outfits with 10 things. Rather, I can make up about 10 outfits with the 100 things hanging out in my closet. I used to have style. I went through lots of styles - I used to dress like Blossom, like a cowgirl, like a grunge band groupie, and apparently during my flannel and hiking boot phase I dressed like a lesbian, if that can be counted as a style.

Today, if I find a sweater I like, I'll buy it in 4 colors and I don't believe that there's such a thing as "too much fleece". I don't necessarily have a style icon, but if there was one I've always wanted to embody it was Meg Ryan in "You've Got Mail." The thing about Meg's style that I've always liked is that she always looks put together and never like she's tried to hard.

If I had to pick a more modern icon, I'd say Jennifer Aniston in Love Happens. The movie sucked, but her wardrobe was to die for. And that hair. Bitch...

5) I don't want babies. But if I did, I'd want John Mayer's (that's for you, Ginger...) Yeah, he's a douche bag. But he's a hot douche bag with a voice that can make you ~~wet~~ melt.

6) I went to 3 colleges and had 4 different majors, all undergrad. Apparently, I'm indecisive. I set out to study music and the first week at my first college, I redeclared myself to be a creative writing major. I transfered colleges the next year to a place that didn't have a creative writing program, so re-redeclared to be an English major. I transferred colleges, AGAIN, the next following semester, somehow got totally turned around and got into a policy and economics program (talk about random, right?). I only sometimes regret that decision...

7) I went to ROTC boot camp at Fort Knox. It wasn't hard (these drill sergeants had nothing on my mother...) and I not only did I learn how to fire a bazooka and a machine gun and how to assemble an M-16 blindfolded in under 2 minutes, I learned that the military, despite its promise of a full-ride to law school in exchange for 6 years in the JAG corp, wasn't for me. The realization happened one early morning when it was my turn to clean the latrine at 4:00am and there were 2 other female cadets up an hour before roll call to put on their makeup and fix their hair.

I was like, really? Here we are, being trained to kill people and these dumb bitches need to look pretty? It wasn't the looking pretty part, but rather the killing part that hit me pretty hard. I hadn't really considered in any great detail, what the purpose of my being there was, other than to land that free ticket to law school. We had all just been through a training exercise of what we should do and how we should respond should we ever be taken captive by a hostile. If that's not a wake up call people, I don't know what is.

A few days later, I came down with a nasty bug of some sort (I'm still not sure what it was; I like to pretend it was some crazy super secret military super bug) that landed me in the infirmary and 3 days of light duty and doped up on 2 different kinds of antibiotics. When I found out that I would have to repeat boot camp because I missed a major field training exercise, I decided it was time to throw in the combat boots and say see ya later. I'm not one to quit things, but this was not the path for me. It was absolutely an amazing experience and I look back on it quite fondly, if you can believe it. It was one of the best summers of my life. I salute those who can devote their lives to our military because I know first hand it is not for everyone.

The combat boots, however... I was sad to see those go. I'll chalk that up to my ever so brief dabbling in the Goth scene or that lesbian thing. (seriously, see #4)

So there you go. 7 things you most likely didn't know about me. And now I'm awarding these 5 bloggers the same! I know, it started out with 15, Wynn cut it to 7 and I'm hacking it down to 5, mostly because I have to pee. See? more about me than you ever wanted to know.

Pink India Ink
Not a Player, Rather a Predator
Bridget Jones has Nothing on Me
Holy Crappers
Tudor City Girl

2010-09-28T21:15:00.000-07:00

Lucas was not someone I was interested in dating; Lucas wasn't someone I even really liked. In fact, our relationship, if you can even it call it that, was founded more on the utter disdain that I had for him, which for whatever masochistic reason, seemed to fuel his fire even more.

Lucas and I met on, of all places, Craiglist. And yes, I'm aware that the Craiglist Killer lived in Boston, but in my defense, CL was a smaller, less crazy place when my friends and I used it as a dating tool... and crazed killers didn't prey on us innocent does via the interwebs just yet (let me keep that fantasy going, okay?)

I digress...

So, Craiglist, as I've mentioned before, was a novelty with my friends. We searched the missed connections, posted for friends, dates, apartments and advice; we even engaged in the random insanity that is otherwise known as the Rants and Raves.

If you've never checked out the RnR on CL, let me fill you in. It's random and insane. And that holds true for every single city that CL exists in - it's this anonymous black hole where otherwise normal people let the crazy out, venting racist, hateful, sad, depressing shit and other people come to argue with the original posters about their opinions and point out how fucked up they are. It's like PostSecret crossed with Jerry Springer, I swear.

Did I mention that it can be addicting? It's a train wreck you can't look away from and when I wasn't trolling match or other dating sites for guys, I trolled the RnR for guys to be grateful that I wasn't dating them.

Well, on this one random night, I came across this post from a guy who, for no other reason than to incite a riot and receive a verbal tongue lashing from every woman who dared to read the RnR's, decided to point out every hypocritical, shallow, superficial behavior that "single women" engage in, in their "vapid, tiresome and unoriginal attempts to win the favor of men." Nice, huh?

He argued that he wanted to meet real, genuine, spirited women, not these carbon copy cookie cutter wannabe faux celebutante shells of human beings.

Point taken, but kind of a fucked up way to go about meeting chicks. Sadly, his methods worked, because like god knows how many other women, I actually took the time to write a scathing reply and post it to RnR myself, which left he and I in an ongoing email ~~argument~~ discussion that only ended after I agreed to meet him for lunch.

Slick, right?
Riiiiight.

Of course I had second thoughts. I mean, I really hated this guy - he got under my skin and I wanted nothing more than to argue and beat him down within an inch of his manhood to prove to him how awesome me and all of my fabulous friends were and how utterly unfabulous he was.

Upon relaying this story to the girlz, they couldn't understand why in the world I'd agree to meet up with a guy like this in the first place. Hell, even I didn't really understand.

Ginger asked, "Is he at least good looking?"
Roxy wanted to know if he was going to pay.
Sam wanted to read the emails, so she too, could point and laugh.

When I showed them the emails and photo, Ginger ruled he was a throg and Sam could only laugh.

"HA! I know that guy!"

"You know that guy? What do you mean, you know that guy? How come we haven't met him? You've never talked about him before!" I demanded she give me the scoop.

"Well, I don't know him like you think, I met up with him from Craigslist," Sam explained.

"You're joking, right? This guy's a serial C-L-er?"

"He likes to start shit and poke people in their sore spots. He gets off on it," Sam said.

Ginger couldn't help herself, "so he's an asshole!"

"Na," Sam said, "he's harmless. He's actually pretty nice, he just does this to meet chicks."

"That's retarded," Ginger said.

"It can't be too retarded, it works apparently since I'm having lunch with the guy tomorrow," I said, feeling rather stupid for getting myself sucked into meeting up with another dude I had absolutely no interest in.

Classic Christine, right there...

So, lunch was lunch. We met up, had a decent conversation that did not entail ridicule and insults and since we both worked downtown remarked that we should "do this again sometime."

For the most part, he was rather innocuous, if not a bit cocky, which was weird, because he was also kind of awkward. So what's that combination make him - inawkucocky? Cockwarduous? Either way, I wasn't interested, but for whatever reason, most likely being that I didn't want to hurt his feelings, I continued to have an ongoing email exchange with him that morphed into a pseudo-chatbuddy-friendship thing.

Lucas was this random background noise, for lack of a better way of putting it, that on the night before Thanksgiving that year, turned up the volume and moved to the foreground...

White Ladder

2010-09-23T20:28:00.000-07:00

When I was single, I was very introspective, unbelievable as that may seem, given all the dating and gallivanting around with the girlz that I did. That was my external self, living life in the moment by the seat of my pants. But there was an entirely other side of myself that I didn't share, that I spent hours, weeks, months, years, exploring, trying to figure out.

I've always been a self-reflecting person, but what was different about this period of my life is that I examined myself with intention. Pushed myself to the edge of what I once believed were my limits and sought out those things that terrified me most - confronted them (or at least tried to) and forced myself outside of my comfort zone repeatedly, all because I could and needed to know that I would be able to get through it and come out on the other side still whole and hopefully better for the experience.

I remember many nights, long after my divorce, just kind of relishing in my emotions, sometimes laying on the couch in the dark listening to David Gray and just thinking, allowing my mind to think and allowing myself to wallow around in whatever feeling washed over me.

For a long time toward the end of my life with Joe, I tried so hard not to feel. I pushed everything down, swallowed it hard, until I was numb, just so I could move forward. And instead of feeling the whirlwind of emotions that are supposed to come with being divorced at 27, I tuned it out and ran full steam ahead into the new life I had been wanting for so long.

And for a while, that worked. I was caught up in exciting new adventures with new friends, new guys, new clothes, body and frame of mind. But deep down, there were still things I had to deal with, and I knew that. It was just easier to deal with them a little at a time in a controlled environment of my own making (hence the nights with David Gray on the couch).

And so when the guys ran out, and my self-imposed dating hiatus was in full swing, I had a lot of time to think about me, and who I was as a person, and what I had to offer someone else, should I ever find someone else to share my life with. And where I went wrong with Joe - what I could've done differently, what I would do differently, in the future. And if my life were a movie, this is where'd you'd cue up the sappy music and run the rainy night montage.

What I realized, was that I had been looking really hard for a guy to fill this space inside me (and no, not that space inside me, though, let's be honest, I kinda was always looking for some guy to fill that space - thank god for my goody basket...). And what I discovered was that had been my problem all along.

I was expecting a hell of a lot out of another person - so ridiculously Jerry McGuire-esque of you complete me bullshit - that I was looking and expecting to find something that didn't exist. You can't expect someone to make you whole. You have to be whole on your very own - a relationship exists between 2 people. Not one and three-quarters of a person. I needed to make myself feel whole all on my own before I ever could really be in another relationship.

Because to me, to be whole means to be happy and content with who you are. To be able to look into a mirror and be able to like who's looking back at you. To be confident enough in oneself to be okay with being alone. I needed to know that I could stand on my own two feet and know what I would have to give. I needed to have my own solid foundation to be able to offer support to that other person that I hoped someday would find their way into my life.

I was getting close, but I still needed some work, which at the time, wasn't quite as apparent.

That is, of course, until I met Lucas.

Death of a Cocktail...

2010-08-15T11:52:00.000-07:00

Sitting in my office this morning, indulging in the quiet sun-filled space with my dog on my lap, coffee in hand, I decided to take a few moments of "me-time" - something I keep hearing about but have paid little attention to over the past 9 months - and peruse one of my favorite online ~~addictions~~ indulgences - Apartment Therapy.

It was bliss. Until I came across this post and found that a dear old friend had been laid to rest. Of course, it didn't come as much surprise, I mean, really. Who actually drinks Sex on the Beach anymore? I can't even remember when I last sipped the sickeningly sweet concoction but can recall far too many hangovers following nights out drinking these in college. (One particular episode comes to mind involving me becoming trapped in a bathroom because the doorknob kept moving (I swear!) around the door and I couldn't actually grab onto it to exit. Of course, this may not have been solely SotB's doing, as I'm not 100% convinced some frat guy didn't slip something into my teacup when pouring my drink dujour. But I digress...)

As I continued reading, I discovered that not only has SotB gone to the wayside but so too have Appletini's, which again, were slightly overrated even in their heyday, so it wasn't much of a surprise.

But I come to find out that the passings didn't end there. Red-Headed-Sluts saw their demise in 2009. Seriously? How did this happen unbeknown to me until this morning. I mean, me and the Red-Headed-Sluts go way back, and in fact, hadn't not been for the Red-Headed-Sluts at my wedding to Joe, who knows if we'd even have gotten married or if the guests wouldn't have objected to the marriage in the first place. Me and the RHS had many a good night (mostly at bachelorette parties and weddings, whatever that says about the drink) and so maybe it's too much nostalgia, but I'm kinda sad to know that old friends are... no longer.

I think what bothers me even more, is that I've outlived my favorite cocktails. What does it mean when the cocktails trusted to get your hammered in your youth are dying before you?

Perhaps they'll make a comeback, like pegged jeans and stirrups. After all, 'classic' cocktails have seen a resurgence in recent years, maybe some day in the not-so- distant future I'll be able to ponyup to the bar and order a Red-Headed-Slut and the bartender will smile knowingly, not because I'm a twenty-something chick looking to get hammered for the night, but rather, I'm a lady looking to reminisce about my youth.

Next thing you know, the Blow Job will be passe, too...

The Update

2010-07-20T15:36:00.000-07:00

Dear Readers -

Yes, it's been a long time. Months. And it's sad and unfortunate and all around kinda sucky that I haven't been able to write more and update the story. I've been conflicted about posting about "what's going on" and including more updates about my personal life to explain why it is that I haven't written in so long. See, there was a time when I dared to stray from the storyline of Getting Single and was chastised by more than a few that personal updates weren't welcomed here and readers preferred I tell those tales elsewhere, since at the time, I maintained a different blog in real time as well.

I do apologize I've kept you waiting, but unfortunately, I'll have to keep you waiting a bit longer before I have the free time in my schedule to devote to blogging on a regular basis. I hadn't imagined that I'd be away quite so long, but as is true with most things in life, shit takes longer than you expect it to and usually more than it needs to. Just happens.

As for the comment that "it must've been nice when I needed your attention" - let there be no mistake here - I have never profited or expected anything from my readers. I blogged initially to share my story because I wanted to and was happy to find that there were people who related and enjoyed reading. But no. Blogging has never been about needing attention it was about sharing an experience.

For everyone who's written wishing me well and wondering how I am - thank you. Please know that all is well. Life is really amazing right now, actually, just insanely busy. In the last 6 months H2.0 and I took on buying a house (which was not without its problems), quit working 2 full time jobs and started my own business and H2.0 has changed careers as well. Oh, I also started taking some classes. So... moments of free time have been few and far between. I do, however, expect that to change in the next month or so and see my life slowing down to where I will have time to once again write.

As far as the blog being over - it's not. The blog will be over when the story is over which I do plan to wrap up before the end of 2010 so as not to leave anyone hanging whatsoever.

So stay tuned!

Hey Pretty...

2010-04-19T16:17:00.000-07:00

Fall was quickly turning into winter, and like the leaves on the trees, my vagina was withering away. My bed, once warm from the summer heat and hot sweaty sex, was growing colder with each passing day. My love life was as bleak as the gray days of Boston. I was sticking with my voluntary vow of celibacy and hating every single second of it.

"How long has it been?" Spencer asked one night over drinks.

"Who knows. Weeks? Months? Does it fucking matter?" I sulked.

"You're cranky," Sam remarked, noting my sour demeanor.

"No, I'm horny and not getting any," I clarified.

"Well get some already!" she replied loudly, causing the couple at the table next to us to turn around. "What?" she questioned, giving them the evil eye. "She needs to get laid!"

"I can't. I'm done having meaningless sex and one night stands. I'm not sleeping with another guy until I know that I want there to be something more than just a good fuck."

"Where's the fun in that?" Ginger questioned.

"There is none. But I can't keep tripping over my tongue and ending up in bed with every guy I date. I'm giving myself a complex and becoming that girl."

"What girl?" Sam asked.

"The one that every guy in Boston has slept with. Now c'mon, let's get out of here," I said, wanting desperately to change the subject and get on with our night.

We made our way over to Whiskey Park and scoped out the scene, noting it was an odd one for 11 o'clock on a Saturday night. Townies with their bottled beers, taking pictures of their big night out, sitting next to couples in their 40's, casually lounging with their martini's intermixed with what could only be assumed as a bachelorette party.

We scored some seats, ordered a few drinks, and Sam and Spencer made their way over to a pair of handsome fellows in the opposite corner leaving Roxy, Ginger and I sitting on the leather couches, sipping our bevs.

We were casually scoping out the scene, catching up on our recent escapades when suddenly, the music stopped and angels began to sing.

Out of nowhere, a spotlight was shining on one of the most attractive blonde boys I have ever seen emerging from the darkness of outside.

Okay. That part's not true. Except for the blonde adonis walking through the door. But it seemed like it was true. We did however lock eyes, and I couldn't take mine off him. I leaned over to Roxy, still fixated on the blonde boy, and said, "Dude, check...him...out..."

"Which one?"

"The blonde in the blue who just walked in..."

"Oh, him. Eh, he's okay" Roxy said, locking eyes with him as well, as she gave him the "so-so" hand turn.

Unfortunately, he noticed. He noticed because by this time, he was standing in front of us. At our table, and had for some reason stopped. And was talking to Ginger. And was ruffling up her hair, and wait a second, they're hugging?

Shit. She knew him. Blonde Boy is the college friend that Ginger mentioned may meet up with us that night. Mortification was quickly settling in, and Roxy found it hysterical. Now that he was in better range for her to see, she agreed that he was more than just so-so.

I stood up as Ginger made the introductions. He smirked when he shook my hand. He apparently found my more than obvious attraction entertaining. I however, wanted to crawl under the table and die. Stupid tiny cocktail tables, or I might have attempted it. Already, he had the upper hand. Not a good sign. I couldn't play coy and feign disinterest.

Nope. I personally blamed Ginger. She said he was hot. She clearly did NOT specify, that we would trip over our tongues and slip in our own puddles of drool over this boy. I was not given full disclosure.

He was not helping my case of the hornies. I wanted to drag this boy down onto the leather couch and do all sorts of lewd and inappropriate things to him. Never mind all the things racing through my head that I'd do to that poor boy when I got him up to my bed.

Celibacy? This boy could've made a nun burn her habit...

Ginger did however, make it clear that he was very vanilla. Sadly, this proved to be more than true. I have had better conversations with a bag of hammers. A hammer would have been helpful in this situation, to either try and pry the conversation out of him, or at least bash my brains in out of sheer boredom. It was sad how someone could be to beautiful and seemingly stupid at the same time.

Roxy left to see what trouble Sam and Spencer had found, and Ginger excused herself for the ladies room, leaving me to entertain the pretty boy.

"So, you went to college with Ginger. I bet you could give us some great dirt on her." I said, trying to find a point of common ground for us to talk about.

"Um, well, she was pretty tame in college." He said. And it was clear that was all he planned to say.

"Oh, really? well, she's far from tame now!" I offered, hoping to bait him into conversation.

"Really? cool." Seriously. Hammers. I'm not kidding. They're very good conversationalists.

"So how long have you been in Boston?"

"About 4 weeks." Pregnant Pause. Now, under any other circumstances, (i.e. if he weren't so damn good looking) I would have agreed that this guy was clearly not interested, and saved my time. But he kept looking at me (and The Banshee so wanted to do more than talk), as if we were engaged deep in conversation. Clearly, this was how he interacted socially. If I was going to end my reign of celibacy, I was gonna have to suck it up.

"How do you like it here?" I asked, trying to encourage him. Convince that I didn't bite (unless of course he wanted me to...)

"It's cool." I'm now imagining all the ways I could hurt him with a hammer...

"Have you met a lot of people here?"

"No not really." He said, looking at me. Waiting for the next question.

"Oh, well... um... how do you like your job?"

"It's alright. Could be worse." FINALLY a two sentence response! We were making some headway now.

"So, have you found a favorite bar here yet?"

"No. They're all pretty fun so far." I was trying desperately to find a subject. ANY subject that he would elaborate on. Nobody could possibly be that boring.

"Where are you from originally?"

"Boston." He replied. Are you fucking kidding me? Here I am, talking about Boston, offering suggestions of places to check out, and this asshat is from here? Fabulous. Now I am the one that looks stupid. Damnit all to hell.
Thank GAWD the waitress came by for another drink order.

"Another drink?" she asked with that knowing look in her eyes.
Suddenly, a song by Jem came to mind - "SAVE ME...Mirror mirror on the wall, Who's the dumbest of them all... SAVE ME..."

What actually came out of my mouth was a bit too eager "YES! Another lemondrop..." I said with a pleading smile. This boy was soooo vanilla. No French Vanilla. Not even Vanilla Bean. Just Plain... Old... Vanilla. I was going to need an IV of vodka if I was going to keep talking to him. Maybe I should have ordered that : 'Um, yes, I'll have the 500 cc lemondrop drip..."

She looked to pretty boy for his order, but he declined.

He did, however, begin telling me about his job. But by this point, he had managed to kill every single ounce of horny I had in me. I could have found more enjoyment in watching paint peel. I kind of tuned him out and decided that licking the sugar off the rim of my martini glass was a better way to spend my time. He noticed this.

"I'm going to go get a beer. Do you want anything?"

"Um, no... I just ordered a drink when the waitress was here 2 minutes ago."

"Oh. I'll be back." And off he wanders. Finally, some quality alone time with my empty glass.

Just as I was enjoying my last lick of sugary distraction, the waitress was back with my drink. Praise the lord. There is a God somewhere in the universe. Ginger returned, noticing my company was no longer boring me to tears.

"So, um, he thinks your hot and wants your number."

"What?! When did you discover this? What did you tell him?"

"I told him you were sort of involved."

"Yeah, with my vibrator. Better than I've given up sex. Are you going to give it to him?"

"If he wants it, he can ask. We're not in the 7th grade. You gonna give it to him?"

"I dunno. He's boring as hell. You said vanilla. Not vanilla to the point of making me want to poke my eyes out so I can forget how gorgeous he is. This is awful!"

"Yeah. It's such a waste."

"It's too bad. He's not dumb. He just sounds dumb. Oh well. At least he's some fun eye candy for the night."

He came back from the bar, with beer in hand and a pen behind his ear. I think he realized my feigning disinterest had become a reality, and didn't actually put the pen to good use.

We ended the night with a trip to Chinatown for some afterhours sustenance. This proved to be quite an adventure, as pretty boy was determined to get served at the restaurant.

"Can I have a beer?"

"No alcohol." the waiter politely told him.

"What about a rum and coke?"

The waiter shook his head.

"Scorpion bowl. Come on. You gotta have a scorpion bowl," pretty boy insisted.

The waiter was obviously confused by what part of "no alcohol" this guy wasn't getting.

"Tea. Can I have tea, with you know, a little something extra in it?"

The waiter looked at him like he was stupid. We looked at him and knew that he was.

At this point, Sam stepped in, "Dude, it's cold tea, and you can't order it on the first floor of the place with a cop 10 feet from here at the door, you moran."

Poor pretty boy. Looking to get served at the restaurant, never expecting to get served by Sam. So pretty. We got our fried rice and eggrolls and called it a night. Thank God vibrators don't try and make conversation...

2010-04-09T06:00:00.000-07:00

There was no slinking away. I practically tripped over their table. Their table. Chandler was with a girl. And from the looks of it, the two were quite cozy with one another; this wasn't a first date by any stretch, they were both in sweatpants and hoodies. Practical if coming for a quick bite after the gym. Adorable after midnight on a weekend. These two were either BFF or deep into the throws of a relationship.

"Chandler!" I exclaimed, overly cheerful.

"Hi Christine," he said, as if I hadn't ditched him at a dance a month earlier. "How are you?"

I suddenly felt awkward. Why did he have to be so nice? Why couldn't he have been like "hey bitch, you ruined my night!" so I could turn and run out the door and not have it be a big deal. But no. Now I was stuck making small talk with him and his new girlfriend.

"I'm good! How are you! It looks like you're doing really well!" I said, turning to the girlfriend who was ear to ear grinning; beaming.

"I'm Angela! I've heard a lot about you!" Her enthusiasm was almost nauseating.

"You have?" I asked, stunned. Maybe Chandler was an asshole deep down inside after all.

"Oh yeah! I saw pictures of you guys at the formal! You looked very pretty!" The fact that she was sincere was shocking. Here I expected that she and Chandler had been spending the last month bad mouthing what a bitch I was, and the reality was that these two had more to do with themselves than talk about me. The only person who thought I was a bitch was me, and frankly that was all the bad press I needed.

"Oh, well, thank you, that's very nice of you to say. So how long have you guys been seeing one another? How'd you meet?"

Angela smiled, eager to tell the story. "We met online right before the dance. We didn't get a chance to meet till a week later. And we've been together ever since!"

"Well that's great! I'm really happy for you guys. It was only a matter of time before Chandler got swept up by an amazing woman; he's a great guy you've got," I said, meaning every word of it. I was tiring of the small talk and Ginger had already made it through the line and was heading my way with two giant greasy slices of cheese pizza.

There was no place to sit and I used this as the excuse to leave. "It's really crowded here! I didn't expect it'd be so busy. I think we're gonna take our slices and head out."

"Oh yeah," Angela said matter-of-factly. "Everytime I come home it's like this!"

"Do you live near here, too?" I asked, remembering that Chandler actually lived in the apartments above the pizza joint.

"Oh I live upstairs," she stated.

"Oh how funny is that! You guys live in the same building and yet you still never managed to meet until online. How's that for fate?" I said excitedly; I loved serendipitous kinds of things like that.

"Actually, Angela lives with me," Chandler clarified. He smiled. I felt my face flush.

"Oh. Oooh. Of course she does! That makes more sense than fate!" I was babbling. Like an idiot. How in hell was it possible that in less than a months time, Chandler had met and moved in with a girl?

They were both sitting there, holding hands with shit eating grins, smiling at me, watching my brain doing the math and head explode at the answer.

"Well, um, well..." I continued babbling. "I guess I'll see you guys around then!" I spun around so fast my pizza nearly slid off the plate. I could not get out the door fast enough.

Once outside, Ginger grilled me.

"Was that..."

"Yup," I said, cutting her off.

"The guy you went to prom with?"

"It wasn't prom," was all I managed to get out.

"Did I hear him say they live together?"

"Yup..."

"Did you know he had a girlfriend when he asked you out?"

"He didn't," I said.

"He didn't tell you?"

"have one."

"Wait. What?"

"Yup."

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Nope."

"That's crazy."

"Yup."

Ginger and I said nothing more; just walked back to my place, eating greasy pizza off a paper plate.

Skip and Boog pt. 3

2010-04-07T06:00:00.000-07:00

Even though there was no love lost between me and Boog, I was still annoyed that he ditched me and found some two bit floozy to flirt with. I didn't hold it against him too much; I figured that Skip probably did to him what Ginger did to me; begged him to come, only not because he wanted to go on a double date, it just so happened that the girl he wanted to go on a date with insisted he bring a friend for her desperate, pathetic, shrew of a girl friend.

At least that was how I was imagining he felt about it. There was no doubt how Boog felt. And I just felt stupid.

I made my way over to the bar, grabbed an empty stool wedged between a couple on my right and a group of folks doing a round of shots on my left. I flagged the bartender (no, not my bartender) and ordered a vodka tonic.

"You look like you've had a rough night," he said, grabbing a glass from the shelf below the bar. "Bad date?"

"Yeah, and I'm still on it."

"Ouch."

"You have no idea. See that guy over there in the corner," I said, nodding over my right shoulder.

"The tool with the smoking red head?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, that guy. That's my date."

"Damn! You ARE having a bad night!" he said. "Here, it's on me," he said placing my drink in front of me.

"I didn't tell you about my stellar date with the hopes of getting a free drink. You just happened be the poor bastard who asked about my night."

"No worries, it's part of my job. You're not the first one to come down here hiding out from a bad date."

"Yeah, but I am the first one to find him flirting with another chick while still on it, though."

"You got me there."

The bartender was called to the other end of the bar and one of the guys in the shot party next to me, started chatting with me as soon as he left.

"I'm sorry, but did I just hear you say that your date ditched you for another girl?"

Gee, that didn't make me feel like a big loser or anything...

"Sort of. We're on a double date. Our friends dragged us along. They hit it off apparently but he and I? Not so much."

"That sucks. Wanna drink?" he asked. I couldn't tell if he was being friendly or hoping to score on account of my being loser.

"Nah, got one, thanks." I took my drink and wiggled my way across the crowded floor to a less crowded corner, opposite Boog and the red head. I grabbed my cell phone with the intention of texting the other girlz to see where they were, to get plan B off the ground. I saw I didn't have reception in the basement and so made my way back upstairs.

No sooner had I rounded the corner to the main bar, Ginger was coming my way at a furious pace.

"Where have you been?! I've been texting you for the last 10 minutes!"

"Oh! Sorry, I was downstairs. Guess who's..." and before I could tell her about Boog she interrupted.

"We've got to get our of here."

"What? I thought you were having a good time with Skip?" I asked confused.

"He has not stopped talking about sailing since you left! Every time I try and change the subject, he some how brings it back to sailing. Seriously, make it stop!"

"Okay, well then let's just go. Let's tell them we've go to go meet our friends and go."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"But my jacket's at the table!"

"So's mine, it's fine. We'll grab our stuff and tell him we're going."

"What about Boog?" Ginger asked, not knowing he had found his own good time in the basement.

"Never mind about him," I said, dragging her back to our table where Skip was checking his voicemail.

"Oh hey! You're back! You wanna nother drink?" he asked. Poor Skip. At least he was polite.

"Thank you, but no," I said, reaching for my things. "Ginger and I can't stay. We've gotta get downtown and meet our friends."

"Oh," he said, sounding disappointed. "Do you want a ride? We could go with you," he suggested.

"No, that's okay, we're just gonna "T" it back into the city. Thanks anyway," Ginger said.

Ginger shook his hand and thanked him again for her drink. Skip, not sure what to make of our sudden end to the evening turned to me and asked if I knew where Boog went.

"Oh yeah. He's downstairs flirting with some chick. Real nice guy that Boog. You two will be very happy together, I'm sure." Of course I was being rude. But seriously; if that guy wasn't in love with Boog, consciously or not, and if Boog wasn't such a total twat-face, I'm sure we could've at least had a decent time, the four of us. But that wasn't the case and we didn't have a good time. Not even the tiniest little bit.

I grabbed Ginger's hand and pulled her through the crowd outside. The cold night air was refreshing; quite the opposite of the stuffy heat inside the bar. As we stood there, contemplating our next move, Skip exited the bar. Not wanting to be seen and risk getting stuck talking with him any longer, we dodged into the next door building vestibule; a urine smelling, trash filled, rat shit infested entry way into a long forgotten about business.

We watched as Skip milled around the front of the bar on his cell phone, obviously trying to reach Boog. Too bad Boog was in the basement and had no reception. As he paced up and down the sidewalk, we knew we had to get of there or else likely to be seen. Just as he turned to walk in the opposite direction, Ginger and I sprinted around the corner of the building, hoping we hadn't been made.

We stood there, peering around the corner like two idiot spies, waiting for Skip to back inside. Instead, Boog came out and the two of them turned and started walking in our direction.

"Shit!" Ginger said. "do you think they saw us?" she said, crouching down even further so she was practically sitting on her heels on the ground.

"I don't think so. Let's just wait here till they get into their car."

Of course we had no idea what kind of car they drove. We both kind of assumed it was parked in front of the bar. That was until I noted the car parked on the corner near where we were hiding that had Rhode Island plates.

"Fuck!" I whined, tapping Ginger on the shoulder and pointing to the car.

She saw the plates. "Damnit! I bet that's their car. What are we gonna do?"

We both peered around the corner again and sure enough they were still walking towards us, only they were about 15 feet away. There was no way they didn't see us. Ginger and I bolted up and ran into the alley behind the bar - our second interlude with a urine smelling, trash filled rat shit infested area of the night.

As we tip-toed our way around the dumpsters, pot holes and puddles, we suddenly burst out laughing.

"I am so never going on a double date with you again!" I exclaimed.

"Why do all my double dates end with me running away from the guys?"

"Because blind double dates are a bad idea! So now what are we gonna do?" I asked.

Ginger stopped when we reached the end of the alley. "I kinda want pizza."

"Pizza?"

"Yeah, I'm starving. I didn't eat before the date so I could fit into my skinny jeans. I can't believe I squeeze my fat into these jeans for that jackass."

"At least your date wasn't named Boog," I said. We rounded the block and were back in front of the bar. I trotted down the street to the end of the block where Skip and Boog's car had been parked and found it was gone.

The coast was clear.

Ginger and I decided to grab a slice from the pizza joint next to the bar. As soon as we walked I wanted to turn and run out the door.

There sitting in the first table, front and center, was Chandler, the guy I hadn't seen or really talked to in over a month since I ditched him at his law school prom...

Skip and Boog pt. 2

2010-04-05T06:00:00.000-07:00

After the formal introductions, Skip turned to Ginger and asked if he could buy her a drink. Expected, right? It's a normal, customary thing. Guy and girl meet up for drinks, guy generally offers to buy her one.

Boog had not learned this lesson. In fact, Boog hadn't learned many lessons in life, especially those related to women, dating and normal social engagements. Instead, Boog sat there, arms folded across his chest, staring at the TV in the corner. I knew that he and I didn't get off on the best foot; I could tell my questioning of his name offended him, but c'mon. Seriously. What did he expect? His name is Boog, either by his choice or his parents poor decision making. I could not possibly have been the first person to express confusion upon hearing his name.

Unless of course Boog is par for the course in Rhode Island, which to date, I haven't found that to be the case, so to this day, as I did then, I chalked Boog up to being an asshole, plain and simple.

But at that moment, when this whole drink order exchange was happening between Skip and Ginger, I was patient. Patience was running strong with me that night; it had to have been seeing as I had waited almost an hour for these idiots to show up in the first place. I had been married to an obsessive sports fan; I knew how they operated, and seeing how Boog's eyeballs were glued to the tube, I filed him under that category and waited it out, knowing his gaze would be diverted the moment a commercial came on.

A minute later, my theory proved right. Boog's attention came back to the table and he casually looked from me to Ginger to the empty seat next to him. He almost seemed confused; lost. Not unlike Keanu Reeves in a Bill and Ted movie.

"Where's Skip?" he asked me. Part of me wanted to fuck with him. Be like, "Skip who?" or "He went back to Rhode Island" because I suspected he might believe me. Boog didn't strike me as being the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree. Instead, I was friendly, and said, "He went to the bar to get Ginger a drink."

Boog nodded his head, as if to acknowledge that hey, yeah, that makes sense. We're in a bar. People drink in bars. And then once again returned to watching TV. Only the game wasn't back on. It was still a commercial. So, his infatuation with the boobtube had little to do with the game itself, rather it was the thing to act interested in so as not to act interested in me.

Fabulous.

The Banshee at this point had come out of hiding and was like "oh no he didn't"; she never cared for taking the backseat to sports and she especially wasn't gonna stand for being blown off for commercials by some ragamuffin surfer dude who thought his shit didn't stink.

"I'll have a stoli vanilla and diet with a lime," I said, staring intently at him.

He turned to face me, but his expression was not one of recognition. Again, more of the confused, what happened? glazed look in his eye.

I smiled. "I'll have a stoli vanilla and diet with a lime," I repeated with a smarmy head tilt.

He said nothing. He looked around the bar, noticed a waitress a few tables down from where we were, leaned back in his chair, his arm extended, waiting for her to walk our way. She glanced in his direction, he waived at her, she smiled, and a moment later she was at our table.

"Yeah, she wants another drink," he said, looking back to the TV.

"Would you like to start a tab?" she asked Boog.

"Nah, I'm good."

At this point, Ginger intervened. "Um, it's on his tab," pointing to Skip at the bar. "I'll just get him to add it to his, it's okay," she said, dismissing the waitress. She stood up to go tell Skip to get me a drink.

"I'll come with you," I said, grabbing my purse. There was no way in hell I was going to stay there, alone, with Boog, the biggest boob I'd been out on a date with in a long time.

"What the fuck is wrong with that guy? Is it me, or does he NOT want to be here more than I do?"

"Maybe he's just really into the game," Ginger suggested, and I shot her a look that said otherwise. "C'mon, Skip's nice! He'll get you a drink!"

"I don't want a drink, I just wanna go home. These guys suck. There is a reason these guys would agree to cross state lines for a date. You know what that is? Rhode Island is too small for that many assholes at one time."

"Please don't go. Let's just have a drink and if things don't get better we'll just tell them that we have to meet our friends and leave. Okay?" Ginger pleaded.

"Fine," I conceded. "I cannot believe I'm letting you talk me into this. AGAIN!"

I scooted off to the ladies room and by the time I returned, Skip had returned with drinks for everyone, including Boog.

"So!" I said as I sat down. "Skip. Tell me. What is it you do in Rhode Island?"

His face lit up at the question. "We're sailors!"

"Excuse me? Like in the navy?"

Boog snorted at my question.

"What? Why's that funny?" I asked defensively, noting Boog continued to snicker at my irritation.

Skip jumped in. (Maybe he skipped in for that matter...) "It's not funny. We get that all the time, actually."

Again with the 'we' from Skip. It was starting to freak me out a bit because it was a bit too much like the way a wife would talk about something she and her husband do. We garden. We don't like fish. We love the Caribbean. I looked at Ginger to see if she noted it, too. She hadn't.

Skip continued. "Actually, we're yachtsmen."

"Yachtsmen?" It was Ginger doing the questioning this time.

"Yes, we sail yachts."

"For a living," I said skeptically.

Skip laughed. "Yes, for a living. Boog and I have been crewmates for almost 15 years."

"So your deck crew," Ginger clarified.

"No," Boog jumped in. "We're not crew. We sail private yachts."

"How do you make a living sailing your boat around, I don't get it," Ginger said, asking what I was thinking.

See, I grew up landlocked and the most time I ever spent on the open water was fishing in a canoe one afternoon with my grandpa. I flunked swim lessons. Twice. I knew nothing about sailing and boats so I had no idea what the hell it was these guys did and how they made any money doing it, let alone to live off of, and live well.

Boog continued. "It's not our boat. We sail other people's boats. Get it? Yacht owners hire us to sail their ships around the world for them."

"Seriously?"

Boog smirked, took a drink of his beer and went back to watching the TV. Skip, however, went on to tell us all about yachting. It was clear he was passionate about his work, as he didn't shut up for the next half hour. Then he dragged Boog back into the mix and the two of them proceeded to share with us 15 years of sailing debauchery and war stories.

After god knows how long of listening about this awesome trip and that awesome trip and all kinds of shit that meant nothing to me (as I had no idea what half of it meant; it would be like listening to a group of surgeons reminisce about all the surgeries they did together. Not that I'm equating yachting to surgery, but my point is it's got is own language and if you don't know it, you're lost) so my focus was on the game, too.

When Ginger finally managed to direct the conversation away from sailing, Boog was done. He excused himself from the table, saying he'd be back. 20 minutes later, he wasn't and I was starting to feel like a third wheel as Ginger and Skip were deep in conversation.

I slid off the booth and made my way down the back stairs to the lounge in the basement, where I found Boog, in the corner, making conversation and googly eyes with some petite red head....

HELP A READER WIN HER DREAM WEDDING!!

2010-03-30T20:55:00.000-07:00

Hey Readers!

I'm a sucker for happy endings and love stories. So when a long time reader, Erin, recently wrote in to tell me she was engaged, I was thrilled for her; especially since it was her entry that won the Unpredictable Contest in 2008. Turns out, her rekindled love has transcended to happily ever after (YAY!)

Now, if you've ever planned a wedding, are planning a wedding, or know anything about weddings, you know this: they are DAMN EXPENSIVE. Like downpayment kindsa expensive and aside from that just being crazy (and depressing) we all still have ideas and longing for a dream wedding. Turns out Crate and Barrel (which is a registry must for many couples) is sponsoring a dream wedding contest where the winner wins a $100K dream wedding.

That's right.

$100,000 (?!)

So! Here's where you come in! Please read Erin's story below, follow her link and VOTE! You guys voted her a winner before so let's do it again! Let's help Erin have her dream wedding!!!

From Erin: Almost two years ago, I won the Unpredictable contest with the story of how I got the love of my life back after being broken up for more than a year. February 3, the fifth anniversary of our first date, he proposed. We're getting married on November 7, and I was hoping you could help me out a bit with another contest.

Crate and Barrel is sponsoring a contest where you can win a $100k dream wedding. The winner will be chosen by judges from the 50 entries that get the most votes. Our odds are kinda long, but I wanna see if a big push this last week could help. Would you possibly be willing to post the link and ask people to vote for us? We need a few hundred more votes to even be considered.

VOTE FOR ERIN TO WIN HERE!!!

REALITY TV PILOT IS SEARCHING FOR FUN, FEARLESS SINGLE WOMEN LOOKING FOR LOVE IN NYC!

2010-03-30T20:37:00.000-07:00

Are you a woman in your 20’s, 30’s or 40’s who is actively navigating the NYC dating scene?

Have you looked for love online before? If not, would you be open to trying online dating for the first time?

Do you and your single girlfriends have enough stories - the good, the bad and the ugly - to write a book on dating?

Are you New York City’s real life Carrie Bradshaw?

If so, we want to hear from you!

Picture Shack Entertainment is now casting fun, fabulous single women (and their friends!) for a new reality pilot about the good, the bad and the future happily-ever-afters of the NYC dating scene! We're looking for that vivacious group of girlfriends who are outgoing, adventurous and made-for-TV...all those real life Carries, Mirandas, Charlottes and Samanthas who will let us come along for the ride as they meet, date and discuss all those potential Mr. Rights!

If you’re open to new styles of dating and love to meet new people online while searching for your Mr. Right, please contact us with a recent photo, as well as a brief description of yourself and your online dating history. If you have girlfriends who might be right for this ensemble show, please let us know!

To apply or get information about the pilot

Please contact:

Danielle Gervais (Casting Producer)

Call: 646-674-3098

Email: nydatingcasting2@gmail.com

Matchmaker

2010-03-29T20:07:00.000-07:00

"We should go on a date," Ginger announced one Sunday, just as I sat down with my PSL (pumpkin spice latte) and giant M&M cookie.

"I didn't I was your type," I replied, offering her half of the cookie, which was accepted, but with a smirk.

"No, silly. I mean a double date. We should go on a double date together."

This time, I replied with a smirk. "Yes, because both of us currently have men with which to go on that double date together. I'm on a dating break, remember?"

"Oh, c'mon. It will be fun!" she said, trying her hardest to convince me there was a grain of truth in what she was saying.

"When was the last time you had fun on a date? You hate dating."

"I'm trying not to hate dating. I haven't been on a date in forever. Please? I promise we'll have fun!"

I looked at her skeptically. "You already made plans for us to go on a double date, didn't you!"

Ginger flashed a cheesy grin. "Yes?"

"Seriously?"

"PLEASE!!!!" she begged.

"Fine. FINE. I'll go on a double date with you. I'm doing this for you. Where did you even meet these guys, anyway?"

"Match?"

"How in the world did you find two guys on match that would agree to go on a double date?"

"I didn't! I found one guy who wanted to go out with me, and I asked if had any friends for my hot blonde friend and Wha-La! Double date."

Wha-La indeed.

The following Friday night, Ginger and I were all set to meet up with the guys at 9:00 at Tonic.

at 9:15 we were still waiting for them to show up.

"This sucks," she said pouting.

"No, this is bullshit, is what it is. Are you sure they know where this place is?"

"He said he did, I tried to give him directions."

"Direction? why didn't you just tell him the T-stop to get off at?"

"Because they're driving up from Rhode Island," she said trying not to draw attention to the fact that she just said THEY WERE COMING UP FROM RHODE ISLAND.

"Are you fucking kidding me? We have to start recruiting men from freaking Rhode Island to go out on dates with?"

"No," she said sheepishly. "He winked at me. He's cute."

"Uh huh. So what are these guys' names, anyway?"

"Um... his name is Skip."

"Skip? You're going out with some guy named Skip? Am I stuck in a really bad remake of a Sex and the City episode here, or what? Who the hell names their kid Skip?"

"Shut up. It's not that bad."

"Famous last words. If these guys aren't here in 10 minutes, I'm leaving."

****

At 9:30, they still haven't shown.

I quickly finish my drink and grab my bag, ready to dash out the door. Ginger is very annoyed and about ready to follow my lead.

"At least let me finish my drink," she said. Just as she lifted her glass, she set it down, and gave me the most terrified look ever.

"Omigod. What if... what if they came in already? What if they came in, saw us sitting here and left? What if they got here, took one look at us and booked it?"

"Don't be ridiculous. He's seen pictures of you already. He knows what you look like and if he didn't like the way you looked, he wouldn't have agreed to drive all the way up from Rhode Island for christ's sake. If anything, it would've been his friend taking a look at me and dragging him out, so don't even think shit like that, okay?"

"You're right," she said, again, starting to take a drink, and again setting it down. "We should move."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"We should move. We should move closer to the door in the corner so we can see them first and flee if they're gross, or if he lied about what he looked like."

"You're crazy."

"No I'm serious. Roxy and I went on a double date once and we totally had to ditch the guys. We should be prepared just in case."

"Okay, you're both crazy. Why would he lie about what he looks like?"

"People do that all the time. Besides, he could have used fake pictures."

"In which case, we'd have no idea who we're meeting until they walked up to us, right?"

"Good point. Still," she said, switching seats so she could sit next to me and share the vantage point of the door.

"Look, if they walk in and you wanna ditch, we'll just slide down the backstairs there and head down to the bar downstairs and then sneak back up the other front entrance and out the door. It'll be fine."

***

At 9:45, they still weren't there and Ginger was pissed and ready to get the hell outta dodge. At 9:47 they walked in the door, looking exactly how Ginger knew her date would, they saw us immediately, and headed straight over.

"Hi, I'm Ginger!" Ginger greeted them, extending her hand to Skip, who returned her greeting with a kiss on the cheek.

"Hi, I'm Christine," I said, extending my hand as well.

"Hi, I'm Skip and this is my buddy Boog."

I nearly snorted.

"Excuse me?" I said, not sure I heard him right.

His friend, a tanned, moppy-haired blonde guy in his 30's leaned closer to me and said, "BOOG. I'm BOOG."

Right. Boog. As in Boog-er. Awesome. So there we were. Me and Ginger, with Skip and Boog. The night could only get better from there.

2010-03-08T21:16:00.000-08:00

Okay. More on the dude ditching, vomit and late night transit back into Boston...

In addition to chatting with Spiderman and his buddy all night, we were also drinking. And since Sarah and I had a several hour head start on these guys, it was only about 2 drinks into the chat before she and I were incomprehensible, spouting the most intelligible bullshit that ever did flow from the mouths of babes.

(I swear it was even worse than that dribble I just wrote there. That's how bad it was.)

Sarah, despite the giant engagement ring and never ending love for her fiance, insisted to the buddy that she was single. She did this in an attempt to be a good wing woman, thinking that I was head overheels for Spiderman.

And whatever in the world gave her that impression, I had no idea. It surely couldn't have been the way I was hanging all over him (which had nothing to do with the fact that I could no longer sit on my barstool on my own accord) or that I was staring dreamily into his eyes (because of course, I wasn't having any trouble focusing or experiencing double vision) or because I gave him my phone to enter his phone number into (because I totally didn't forget how to use my cell phone or anything crazy like that. No, I was playing coy and hard to get of course...)

So yeah. No idea why Sarah thought I was actually interested in this guy, because nothing I did that night could've been misconstrued in such a way. It was clear I was just being friendly and polite and chatty.

Totally clear.

To no one except me.

Because to Sarah. And Buddy. And Spiderman, I was totally into Spideyguy. Like... really into him. So much so that at one point they even thought they heard me say something along the lines of making Spidey promise to call me. And to wait like all the douche bags do according to some archaic and lame guy's rules of dating, but to call me that night the moment he got home.

PROMISE! They heard me insist.

CRAZY drunk people, hearing things I never ever said.

I totally hate when that happens.

I especially totally hate when that happens when I'm the one saying things I wish no one ever heard.

So after all this gushing and promising crap was out of the way, Sarah realized (how, in her drunken state I'll never know) that if she didn't leave that very minute, she was going to miss the last train out of South Station and be stuck squatting on my couch for the night. Which given that she made her fiance promise to come over to her place that night after he was out with his friends and he was already there waiting for her, would not have gone over very well.

Spidey and his Buddy insist on walking us to the train. Sarah, in her drunken state, argued strongly against this plan, fearing that her fiance would some how find out that some strange guy walked her to the train - clearly a travesty in the relationship world. Buddy, not wanting to deal with any more crazy drunk chicks, left us with Spidey in the middle of downtown crossing.

Spidey walked us to the train and waited on the platform with us, and offered to take the train with us to make sure we got where we were going okay.

Spidey you see, was not a creep. He was a genuinely nice guy and my less drunken self could attest to his mad skillz should some actually creepy guy try and accost us. But me being... drunk (and me and lacking any ability to commit to anything with a nice guy) insisted he not go.

He argued (politely) that we were really in no shape to ride the train alone.

I argued that we were women of the 21st century and could take care of ourselves. This said, just as Sarah barfed into the trash can. Clearly, we didn't needs no mans to get us home. The train came, we got on, and I literally held Spidey at bay, insisting he go home and call me later.

He reminded me that his number was in my phone and that I would have to call him. Which I obviously said "Of course I'll call you!!!"

Sarah and I made it 2 stops on the train before she had to get off to throw up. So there we are, freezing, sitting on an outdoor platform for 25 minutes before the T security inform us that there are no more trains. We had been on the last train out of South Station and we still had several more to go before we were at hers.

We were stranded. Without cab fare, at a shady stop on the redline.

There was only one thing left to do: call Sarah's fiance to pick us up. He was none too pleased.
Because not only is it now like 2:30 in the morning, Sarah is clearly ~~too drunk to put out~~
not feeling well and just as she's about to get into his car, she throws up. All over the inside of the passenger side door and the outside of the rear passenger door.

Awesome. Because there's nothing better than the smell of vomit inside a warm car or frozen vomit on the outside of a car.

And then there was that whole issue of me not being able to get back into the city since there were no more trains running. Fiance, faced with the prospect of dealing with 2 drunk women that night, decided after dropping Sarah off at her place, would drive me home.

Of course, neither of us expected there to be traffic backed up that time of night. What should've been a quick 20 minute drive took over an hour. Fiance was none too happy, and really, who could blame him?

By the time I got home, I was starting to sober up, and recall details of the night. There was one lingering question that I couldn't seem to answer in my head: Did I agree to go out with Spiderman the next night?

For some reason, I had this awful feeling in the pit of my stomach (that wasn't just vodka) that I had gotten myself into date with yet another guy I was pretty sure I didn't really wanna go out with.

The fun continues over at The Dinks...

2010-02-24T20:35:00.000-08:00

Right so where were we.

Drunk, thanks to the owner of the bar. As the night wore on, the drinks kept flowing and being the women we were (ones to never pass up a free drink) Sarah and I were drunkity drunk drunk.

And not just a little drunk. Like stupid, slurring, sliding off the barstool drunk.

Classy.

Anyway, hours go by and before we know it, the bar is packed to the gills, it's nearing 11pm and Sarah and I have gotten chatty with the locals. We're sitting in a prime traffic location and I've got a view of every entrance into and out of the bar as well as the hall to the bathroom. And in the middle of listening to this guy ramble on about some shit that I couldn't have cared less about, I see this guy.

This guy I recognize, but don't really know why immediately. He and a friend are walking past us towards the back part of the bar and without thinking I reach out and grab the guy, nearly clocking the guy I was supposed to be having a conversation with.

"OMIGOD I KNOW YOU!" I blurt out, my hand firmly gripping his coat sleeve to make him stop, which he does and gives me the most confused look ever. I'm pretty sure he was thinking who the hell is this crazy drunk woman and why is holding me hostage?

He gives me a polite smile and I again insist that I know him.

"SARAH!" I yell, grabbing onto her, pulling her out of her conversation. "Why do I know this guy?"

She, too, looks at my like I'm an insane crazy person, and all she can say is "Huh?"

"This guy! I know I know him!" and the poor guy, obviously has no idea who I am, but I can't let it go (or his coat sleeve) and he humors me for like 15 minutes where we play the name game, 6 degrees of separation, and just as I'm about to give up and let him go, it hits me.

"OH MY GOD! YOU'RE SPIDERMAN!"

And if I thought he looked at me like a crazy person before, now he really thought I was nuts.

"No wait, I can explain!" I said and I told him the story.

After hearing it, Sarah asked, "Holy cow, was that really you? Did you really do that?"

Spiderman blushed. "Yeah, I did. That was me." He was quite humble and his friend, who for the duration of this conversation hadn't really said much but instead stood there looking bored, annoyed and waiting for the waitress, finally piped in.

"Of course that was him. This guy," he said, patting Spiderman on the chest, "is a martial arts master!"

Again, Spiderman seemed a bit embarrassed by the attention and accolades.

"That is so cool!" Sarah said, and we spent the rest of the night chatting with Spiderman and his friend.

Unfortunately, the night ended on a rather sour note that involved dude ditching, vomit and late night transit back into Boston...

Quick Update

2010-02-23T08:08:00.001-08:00

Sorry the delay in posting and responding to emails - I am drowning in 'real life' stuff! H2.0 and I have been up to our eyeballs in RMLS listings and open houses every free moment we have; good news is I think we found a place, now we're drowning in paperwork and all that fun stuff.

I hope to carve out a few hours to get back on track this week, so thanks for your patience!

2010-02-05T10:31:00.000-08:00

On no particular Friday night, my friend Sarah and I met up at a bar near our work to have a drink, grab a nosh and catch up. We had been trying to connect for weeks, but between my schedule and hers, we were having trouble finding a time that worked.

Sarah and I had a lot to catch up on; she was, after all, engaged and getting married the following spring (and I was one of her bridesmaids.) I gushed with her about her wedding plans and she gobbled up the stories of my single life.

"That was what you were missing all those years with Joe. I am so glad I got all that out of my system, because you know what? I'm too tired to date. I'm exhausted just listening to you!"

"I'm exhausted listening to me. That's why I'm not doing it for awhile. I need a break," I said, filling her in on my recently instated dating prohibition.

It was nice to be out and focused on nothing more than my friend and our conversation. No subtle glances around the bar to see who may be there, or maybe looking my way. That night, I didn't care. I was dressed for work and not a night on the town, and fully expected this to be an early and low key evening.

Those plans, of course were shot to shit when two shot glasses appeared in front of us, empty and upside down. Sarah and I were on our 2 round of cosmos (cliche, I know) and had just started in on a giant plate of nachos.

"Ladies, your next drink is on the house," the bartender informed us as he passed us more napkins.

"Excuse me?" Sarah asked, confused as to why we suddenly were getting free drinks.

"Courtesy of the owner," the bartender informed, looking towards the other end of the bar where an older casually dressed man was seated. Apparently, he was enjoying the view from his barstool and wanted to lock in the scenery.

"Oh, that's very generous," I said, raising my glass towards the owner in acknowledgment of his gift.

He flashed an appreciative smile and quickly went back to the paperwork strewn out on the bar in front of him. Luckily for Sarah and I, his generosity continued to flow all night. What was intended to be a simple drink after work turned into an all night crazy adventure, courtesy of Mr. Bar Owner.

2010-02-01T06:00:00.000-08:00

"Is it always so young?" asked the 40ish looking man, referring to the demographic of that night's meet and mingle. He was wearing a blue button down shirt under a dark grey sweater and jeans. I had noticed him waiting outside the door before the event began; he was one of the first to arrive. Punctual. Eager. Nervous...

I knew from the moment I greeted him that he was out of his element and was likely encouraged by his sister, mother or coworker to come. Or, maybe he was branching out, trying out this new-fangled way of meeting people and internet dating, hoping to meet a nice woman. Either way, it was clear this was his first singles "event" and he had no idea what the hell he was doing.

I smiled before answering his question, understanding his understated frustration. Nearly every woman at that night's event was a bubbly young co-ed or early twenty-something. The reason was due to the company's recent push to get us to market the events to Boston's 'young hipster' crowd. They failed to realize Boston at the time, didn't have much of a hipster crowd and in a city with more than 50 colleges and universities, was filled with recent college grads looking to take advantage of nothing more than comped cocktails. These people had no problem meeting people, their challenge was paying a cover charge.

The man I was talking to however, clearly had the opposite problem and was a bit dismayed that there weren't many women his age in attendance. I can tell you that after running these and similar events for over 2 years, there were plenty of men - most of them in fact - who did not see the disparity in age a problem. Instead, they welcomed the chance to get face time with some hotties who otherwise wouldn't have given them the time of day if in bar/club setting.

But this guy was different and disappointed and I felt bad for him. "Honestly, we're never really sure what the crowd's going to be like on any given night. There was a lovely woman closer to your age here last week. She said she was going to try and come back again, so maybe she'll show up tonight!" I said, trying to be encouraging. How in the world the idea that one single solitary forty-something woman MIGHT wade through into a sea of twenty-somethings was supposed to be encouraging, I didn't know. Given the fact the 2 hour event was almost half over, I didn't expect to see her walk through the door, though one could hope.

"How's a guy like me supposed to meet a woman these days, anyway?" he asked rhetorically. "I mean, women my age don't go to bars or clubs. And it's not like I can ask out any women I work with, I'll be slapped with a sexual harassment complaint. So where's that leave me? I guess here. And there," he said, nodding towards the giant sign advertising the online dating site sponsor. "What's the deal with that? This internet dating. Who does that?"

"Well, I do it," I said, realizing immediately, I wasn't the demographic he was looking for. "Lots of people do it. You could do it! I can help you," I told him. And it was true, I could. That was part of my job. Sell the events and sell the site. But I wasn't trying to sell him the site. I really wanted to help him and unfortunately, the site I was supposed to sell him, wouldn't get him what he wanted. Not even close.

"There's more than just this site out there, and they all have different markets they're trying to reach. If I were you, I'd try them all. They all have free trials. Check 'em out, see which one best meets your needs and then sign up for that one."

He smiled and rolled his eyes slightly, taking a drink of his vodka tonic. "Sounds like a lot of work."

"Nah, not really. Not anymore than going to an event like this. Look at it this way. You could spend a couple hours each week at bars or clubs or here, and hope the right kind of woman just happens to show up. The beauty of online dating is that you don't have to rely on chance that you and your dream woman will just happen to show up at the same place at the same time and meet. Your profiles are always up and available. If you like what see and read about them, great. Send a wink or an email and if she's interested, and why wouldn't she be, she'll email and wink back and you've just got the ball rolling towards a date. The upshot? You could do this at 5am before work, or 9 o'clock on a Monday night in your sweats in during halftime."

"Alright, so let me ask you this. You got a boyfriend?"

I could see where this was going. "No, no I don't."

"So how good's this online business working for you, then?"

I smiled, having walked right into the trap. "At the moment, not so good. But that's mostly because I've taken down my profile and am giving dating a rest. I guess you could say it was working too well and I'm just exhausted from the dating game right now. But you and I, we're looking for different things."

He scoffed. "No we're not. We're looking for the same thing, you and me. We're looking for love."

The forty-something man and I chatted for a few more minutes and short time later, he left. Not even ten minutes later, the forty-something woman from the week before showed up. She took one look around the room, grabbed a complimentary cocktail and left. Neither she or the man ever came to future events.

2010-01-27T06:00:00.000-08:00

Since I was done with dating and no longer spending countless hours trolling the internet for a date, I had countless hours to troll the internet for other things, like another job.

I decided I needed a part-time job, in addition to my full-time job and volunteering to occupy my time. I thought this would be a good way to expand my resume, my social network and my income to help cover my ever expanding expenses. I can say this about being single - it's expensive. I figured the busier I was working, the less busy I'd be spending money I didn't really have.

I was scanning Craiglist for intermittent job opportunities, like doing paid surveys or serving at catering events like I did in college, and came across for something better. A new dating service was taking the online world by storm and looking to hire event managers for their "meet and mingle" single events around the country. They were launching in Boston after starting up with great success in NYC and this was perfect - instead of trying to find myself a date, I could help others get dates instead.

Without giving it a second thought I penned an email in response, detailing my qualifications (blonde, breathing and single) and attaching a headshot. Within a few days, I had a phone interview and a week later, I was one of 4 women (we later were only 2) selected to head up the events in Boston.

It was our job to help promote and organize the events as well as greet and socialize with the guests and get the singles to "click" - a task much easier said, than done.

Part of the reason had to do with who came (and who didn't.) The events never drew a consistent crowd and because the main draw involved complimentary drinks with paid admission, they tended to draw people who were only interested in the free booze.

Even so, there were plenty of genuinely great people looking for someone. There were older professionals, college kids, working twenty-somethings looking for a good time; shy people, odd people, funny people, outgoing people; people of all shapes, sizes, colors and backgrounds. It was a great cross-section of Boston's singles kingdom and social experiment if ever there was one. The best part of this gig was that I got to be the fly on the wall; I got to hear what people were looking for and what they weren't. The cheesy lines, the tall tales meant to impress, the lies and the brutal truths of the dating world.

In short, it was ugly, but fascinatingly beautiful and inspiring at the same time.

2010-01-25T06:00:00.000-08:00

Even though Tourist Guy was out of the picture, I couldn't stop thinking about something he said.

I thought that was why you were on match. Isn't that what you'd expect from someone who has a profile on an online dating site, that they are looking for a relationship?

Why was I on match, if I wasn't looking for a relationship? How many guys had I written off or broke things off with because I said I wasn't looking for a relationship when things turned toward more than just dating or friends with benefits?

The short answer was all of them, with the exception of Nate. I thought I was ready for a relationship when I was with him, but after going all in emotionally I got burned and retreated, falling back on my aged and comfortable, yet worn out excuse of "I'm not ready for a relationship."

And that wasn't quite true. Well, it was true on the level that I wasn't ready, clearly, because if I was ready, I'd stop running from everyone that came my way. But it wasn't true that I didn't want one. I did. But I was tired of working so hard to make it happen. I was tired of trying to make something out of nothing.

I made the decision right then and there to pull the profile and delete my account effective immediately. I wasn't going to go looking for or getting involved in another relationship until I was damn sure I was ready for one, should one fall into my lap.

2010-01-22T16:10:00.000-08:00

So subtleties were obviously not working with Tourist Guy. Aside from just coming out and being all "I'M JUST NOT THAT INTO YOU!"

(which while we're now on this subject, let me just rant a bit about how at the time may have been novel given the book and the sudden revelations coming out of SATC at the time, that reasoning is now overused and cliche and people need to find a new catch phrase to latch on to when dating... it's convenient yes, because it tries to put the onus back on you, the one doing the breaking up, but the reality is, the finger still turns around and points back at the other person. It's still vague without any true reasoning as to why you don't like them but at least own up to your reasoning as to why. It became my experience (which I'll get to in later posts) that most of the time, people using that line of reasoning had incredibly high and unrealistic standards about the kind of person they were looking for.

I had standards, albeit somewhat stupid standards, when it came to dating but if you're looking for someone with a good "pedigree", strong family values, highly educated, self-sufficient, self-supporting (i.e. highly employed and incomed) with beauty, braun and you want them to be someone who can go from hiking in the woods to charity benefit decked out to the nines an hour later, be honest about what you're looking for. Don't go for the beauty who doesn't have an ounce of brains between their heads because they had a pretty picture online and then suddenly, 3 dates later after you've bagged 'em in bed decide, yeah, you're not that into them. You never were into them. They never met your standards from the get go.

Accept that dating is NOT an equal opportunity sport and fess up (up front) what you are truly looking for in a mate, but be realistic - you get what you give, so you expect the moon from someone, be damn sure you've got one to offer yourself...

But I digress and end the rant here...

Well, THAT was longer than intended, so... anyway, back to Tourist Guy and my inability to just be honest myself. I didn't know what else to do or say, so of course consulted every single one of my friends whose advice ran the gamut from:

Don't return his calls, texts, IMs or emails - ignore him

Tell him "Bye! Don't call me!"

Tell him you're getting back with your ex

Tell him you're dating someone else

Tell him you're bisexual and going back to women full time

Tell him he was a lousy lay

Tell him he's too needy/busy/fat

Tell him I'm too needy/busy

None of this advice you see, was to just say, I'm not interested and here's why. At the time, I didn't pick up on that. At the time, I realized this was all horrible advice, and fretted over what to say (but had a entire arsenal of what not to say...)

The next night, he and I had another IM exchange.

TG: Did you figure out your schedule? When do I get to see you again?

CS: My schedule is ugly.

TG: I know I already told you this, but you may not believe me. I know I work a lot, but things don't have to be that way. I can change my schedule to accommodate yours and make more time for you.

CS: It's really sweet that you would do that, but I don't want you to do that.

TG: But I want to! I work too much as it is.

CS: Yes, you do work too much, but I don't want to be the reason you change that.

TG: Why not?

CS: Because I am not willing to make room in my life orchange my schedule to accommodate you. I like my life the way it is. I don't want to be in another relationship yet. You do.

After a long pause, he wrote back.

TG: You're right. I do want a relationship. I thought that's what you wanted to. I thought that was why you were on match. Isn't that what you'd expect from someone who has a profile on an online dating site, that they are looking for a relationship?

And after another long pause, I wrote back.

CS: Yes, I can see why you'd assume that. But I'm not and I'm sorry if I misled you. You and I are just in very different places right now and you deserve to be with someone who will appreciate your little gestures and your thoughtfulness. Because I don't. It wigs me out and I'm not ready to be showered with gifts and compliments. Don't waste your time chasing after me, or trying to convince me that things will work or could out between us because they won't. Because I don't want them to. Trust me. You are going to find yourself an amazing woman who will love you just as much as you love her and you shouldn't settle for anything other than that.

Another long pause.

TG: So I guess this means we're not going out Saturday night ;)

CS: LOL. No. We're not.

TG: I'm not going to say I'm not disappointed with how things turned out between us because I still think we could've had something special. But I understand you're not ready and I have to respect your decision.

CS: Thank you. You will make someone very happy someday soon, I just know it. Be well.

And that was that. That was the end of Tourist Guy...

2010-01-18T06:00:00.000-08:00

So Tourist Guy wasn't just visiting. He was interested in sticking around for the season (or longer) and I had to suck it up and break up with him. But it was weird to try and 'break up' with someone you weren't really dating in the first place. I couldn't seem to just come out with it and be like, "yeah, I don't wanna see you no more..." Not when it was so evident and obvious that he equated the sleeping together to meaning we were now an item.

The next night we had another IM exchange, where I hoped an opportunity would present itself to basically say buh-bye don't call me without hurting his feelings.

TG: I want you to know I had an amazing time with you this weekend and that I was truly impressed with who *you* are.

CS: and who am I exactly?

TG: And able to see past my republican tendencies!

CS: I wouldn't say I've looked past them...

TG: You seem so strong and independent but at the same time so passionate and caring. I could go on!

It's important to note here, that I am not one for compliments. Especially when they're being doled out by someone who's only real interaction with me had been an extensive IM chat and one night that ended with a romp in the sack.

Granted, he and I did have a long conversation that night in the bar in between all the making out, and we did spend a fair amount of time discussing 'things' as opposed to random bullshit. Regardless, nothing said really warranted the overly exuberant flattery that he was pouring on and it made my uncomfortable.

I know that I had been too nice and led him on, but this was getting to be too much. I ignored his comments and changed the subject, back to the topic of him and his republican outlook.

TG: I could go through some sort of rehab - stand up say yes, it's true! I'm a republican! and the healing can begin!

CS: I guess admitting it would be the first step...

TG: So have the rest of your friends given you the third degree about me yet?

CS: Something like that :)

TG: Just once I wish I could be privy to real 'girl talk'

CS: No you don't. trust me.

TG: why not?

CS: you think men are bad with locker room talk, women are a million times worse. One conversation and it would destroy your vision of us as sweet and innocent creatures.

TG: No worries there, I definitely don't think you're sweet and innocent.

CS: I had a feeling you'd say that.

TG: but I do think you're a really good person and that means a lot to me!

CS: so what, easy girls are people too?

I could be so good at twisting things around...

TG: stop, that's not what I meant.

CS: That's fine, you can't change a first impression.

TG: you made a GREAT first impression - that's why I woke up in your bed! I don't think of you or your actions negatively, and I'm sorry if you do. What happened between us does not in any way lessen my desire to get to know you better. In fact, it just makes me want to know you more. Do you regret what happened?

CS: A little bit, yes

TG: why?

CS: Because I don't want to be *that* girl and it's very clear that I've become *that* girl.

I realized as I typed that to him that it was a true statement. I didn't regret sleeping with him because it gave him false hopes, but more because I had fallen into this incredibly bad habit of sleeping around on first dates, and this time with Tourist Guy - he wasn't even someone I really wanted to sleep with in the first place.

TG: I don't think of you as *that* girl. You just couldn't resist me because of my masterful dancing...

He said this to make me laugh. Tourist Guy, while he had more moves than Joe and his one armed beer swing, was far from Fred Astaire.

CS: Yes, that must be it.

TG: Well, that and my adorable smile. So let me ask you this. Why did you let it happen? Was it really the 15 cosmos?

CS: More like the 15 shots. That and I just went with it. I was having fun and one thing led to another. Not much more to it than that.

TG: Do you feel like I took advantage of you?

CS: No, not at all. I take responsibility for my own actions, but that doesn't mean I can't look back, over analyze the next day and feel like shit about them.

TG: Let me put it to you this way. If I at all felt bothered by how you acted, or what happened, I wouldn't want to see you again. Which I do. And I'm still waiting to know when I can see you again.

CS: Look... I'm just not sure how I feel about what happened.

TG: I understand. You don't want to get hurt. I promise - if we work out and you let me into your life I can promise you that I will never hurt you. Ever.

CS: I guess you could say I have some baggage from previous relationships that I lug around with me.

TG: just be you. That all I can ask for and all I ever want.

CS: I'm always me. Just sometimes I'm more me than I want to be.

TG: Explain that - you lost me.

CS: People are complicated. I am especially complicated. Sometimes I'm an open book but sometimes you only get the opening prologue.

TG: You have such a way with words - I love that about you. You know how to express yourself.

I always wear my heart on my sleeve

CS: I used to, but not anymore. I take better care of my heart now.

TG: Wearing your heart on your sleeve IS taking better care of it - you can't hold in how you feel about everything all the time. That's not fair to you or the other person.

CS: That's an interesting way of looking at things.

TG: Well, I'm very interested in you, Christine. I'm interested in learning about you and seeing if we could be something together.

And this was where I had to pull the punch once and for all. He and I had a very good conversation that night and I realized a lot of what I was telling him wasn't just bullshit, but the truth. Things I felt but hadn't really admitted to myself.

CS: See, I'm not. I'm not interested in that. I'm not ready to just go all in with somebody right now. And you are. You very clearly are looking for someone to *be* with and... I'm not ready to do that.

TG: I understand that things will have to go slow for you.

CS: But that's the problem. Things didn't move slow, things were amped up to 5th gear and I jumped into something without really knowing what I was jumping into.

TG: Sometimes the best experiences in life begin with our eyes shut. I just hope you don't let what already happen cause you to take too big a step back.

CS: Eyes wide shut, huh? I kept my eyes closed in my last relationship. 6 years with a guy, turning a blind eye and I am trying to do things differently. I want to make sure I know all I can and look before I leap. A bit too late at this point, but that's my struggle. I jumped, you jumped and now we're in what, I don't know. All I know is that I'm pretty sure I don't want to be where I landed.

TG: Where do you think it is we landed?

CS: Look, you are a really sweet guy. But I can't see you again. You've already freaked me out and I just don't see us working out the way you do or want.

TG: What did I do that freaked you specifically?

CS: Honestly, it was the flowers.

TG: The flowers?

CS: I know. I'm crazy. I have a known history of grabbing my parachute and baling out when flowers are sent too early in a relationship.

TG: so would you consider the first meeting too early?

CS: um... yeah.

TG: actually, we could say it was the second?

CS: sorry...

TG: so are you telling me that you don't want to see me again because I bought you $15 worth of flowers from a street vendor and had him hand them to you in your car?

CS: I didn't say that.

TG: Good.

CS: But yes, that's what I'm getting at.

TG: Okay, I get that. Sort of. Kind of like if someone begins right away giving a lot of gifts. One would wonder why. See, I'm one for the little things, hun. like having flowers delivered to your car from a street vendor. I pick up on the little things you speak of and surprise you with them.

I hope you will be able to get used to that. Because from what I see, you're worth it and I'm looking forward to taking the time to make sure you are! What can I say... I'm smitten.

Smitten and apparently, not easily deterred.

2010-01-15T06:00:00.000-08:00

The two text messages, had they come from someone I was actually interested in, would've elicited heart racing and many squeals of EEEEE! But instead of making my head swoon and stomach flip, they made my head hurt and my stomach sick.

The first message:

Hey Sweetie! Hope you had fun shopping today!

Was followed by:

Can't wait to see you again!!

The fact that these were sent mere hours after we parted company screamed desperate. Needy. Clingy. Lonely.

I knew lonely. Understood it. Felt it's hollow grip on my heart after Joe and I first split. And I felt that way despite wanting to leave him. After being the one who really pushed things to the end. But Tourist Guy. He never saw it coming. He was blindsided, run over and his heart was left for dead. It's amazing what you can learn from someone after a few short hours of drunken conversation.

My point is, Tourist Guy didn't want to get divorced. His ex-wife did and he was devastated and couldn't wait to fill the gigantic crater in his heart. He didn't want to date, he wanted to be in a relationship and was far too eager to take the first woman who paid him any attention since his divorce and shove her in the void.

Unfortunately, that woman was me, and I wasn't interested and I felt like a total shit because of it. He was a great guy - the kind of guy that every single woman says she wants (but can't get past the packaging) - great on paper, sweet, smart, successful, but damn if he didn't come on way too strong out of the starting gate. And I'm not saying had he played his card differently that he and I would've had anything more than the one date we did if he had, but he eliminated the possibility before things ever got started (well... you know what I mean.)

So all of these factors together made me want to play this out very carefully. That is until I got home and had an email and an IM from him waiting, too. I just needed to come out with this and get it over with.

I logged into chat and before I could even fire off a reply message, he was there, sending me one first.

TG: "Hey Hon, how was your day?"

CS: "Great."

TG: "What did you buy?"

CS: "Not much. Just a few things on sale."

TG: "You can show me when we go out again :) "

CS: "Oh yeah? I didn't know we were."

TG: "Yes. Saturday."

CS: "Funny, I don't have you in my calendar."

TG: "Can you put me in your calendar?"

CS: "Not for Saturday. I have plans."

TG: "Oh. With the girlz?"

CS: "Always."

TG: "I don't mind tagging along :) "

CS: "Sorry, this is girlz only."

TG: "Understood. I could just come over and see you when you get home afterwards?"

CS: "Um... that won't work either. A few of them are going to crash at my place afterwards since we'll be going out in my neck of the woods."

TG: "slumber party! sexy. What about Friday?"

CS: "I'm having dinner with a friend I haven't seen in awhile."

TG: "Thursday?"

CS: "I'm meeting up with my gay boyfriend to go shopping."

TG: "Wednesday? then?

CS: "I volunteer on Wednesdays"

TG: "Okay, I get it. You're busy."

CS: "I told you this when you left today. I'd have to check my calendar, and that's at work and I'm not, so you'll have to wait until tomorrow night."

I was hoping another 24 hours would be enough time for me to work up the courage to just come out and tell him the truth.

TG: "Okay hun, I've got nothing but time so whenever you're free, I can be available. I can bend to your schedule."

Great. If I didn't grow a pair soon, I was going to fill in every second of my life with things to do, just to avoid seeing him.