Yeah...it hit me late last night, after that visit yesterday from he who should not be named, that something was different...something looked different about him. Ah yes! No gray hair anymore! He dyes his hair!
I laughed all night long at that. Lame. It's gonna go great with his striped shirt.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Monday, July 30, 2007
Got to pay your dues if you want to sing the blues
Name that lyric.
Just kidding.
It's an apt title, but also the first line of one of my favorite all time songs.
So the blues, the blues. They were all around my bed this morning, ready to ambush me as I awoke from a long and much needed catch-up sleep. And they pounced and hit me over the head as I took my first waking breath. Damn them. Bother somebody else. I'm trying to live life here.
I didn't know what day it was. It was hard to get out of bed. I trudged through work. I ate a frickin Ho-Ho for breakfast.
(Tangent alert!!! My sister used to work for this farm that had been turned into a mega-party center for corporations to have their company/employee gatherings and picnics. Pony rides. Dunking booths. Eating areas. They gave away a lot of food to the teenage employees. If the food was one day past expiration, they couldn't serve it. For some unknown reason, Hostess cakes have an expiry date on them even though we all know they'll keep forevah. So she came home one day with two large garbage bags full of Ding-Dongs and Ho-Hos. We ate those things for three days non-stop til Mom told all of us to stop. That included my father, who was partaking of the treats at a ridiculous rate morning, noon, night. That was the last time I had a Ho-Ho for breakfast.)
It is afternoon. I am much better. Work can pull you out of a funk, if only to keep you busy. Toying with the idea of having a pot luck dinner party this week. Finally gave in and sent off these damn questions to one of my not so exciting eHarmony matches. He "nudged" me. That's an eHarmony word, not mine. It meant I was dragging my feet and he wants answers to his questions. We'll see.
So three calls right in a row from the Tool aka he should not be named. Two to my home line - from his office number and his wireless, then an immediate ring to my business line (which btw does not have caller ID on it.) I didn't answer any of them. I was busy on the phone with someone else.
No message. Whatever. I think he must be missing some possession of his that he thinks he left here. Unless it is those stupid ties I have sitting out in my garage...he's out of luck.
Just kidding.
It's an apt title, but also the first line of one of my favorite all time songs.
So the blues, the blues. They were all around my bed this morning, ready to ambush me as I awoke from a long and much needed catch-up sleep. And they pounced and hit me over the head as I took my first waking breath. Damn them. Bother somebody else. I'm trying to live life here.
I didn't know what day it was. It was hard to get out of bed. I trudged through work. I ate a frickin Ho-Ho for breakfast.
(Tangent alert!!! My sister used to work for this farm that had been turned into a mega-party center for corporations to have their company/employee gatherings and picnics. Pony rides. Dunking booths. Eating areas. They gave away a lot of food to the teenage employees. If the food was one day past expiration, they couldn't serve it. For some unknown reason, Hostess cakes have an expiry date on them even though we all know they'll keep forevah. So she came home one day with two large garbage bags full of Ding-Dongs and Ho-Hos. We ate those things for three days non-stop til Mom told all of us to stop. That included my father, who was partaking of the treats at a ridiculous rate morning, noon, night. That was the last time I had a Ho-Ho for breakfast.)
It is afternoon. I am much better. Work can pull you out of a funk, if only to keep you busy. Toying with the idea of having a pot luck dinner party this week. Finally gave in and sent off these damn questions to one of my not so exciting eHarmony matches. He "nudged" me. That's an eHarmony word, not mine. It meant I was dragging my feet and he wants answers to his questions. We'll see.
So three calls right in a row from the Tool aka he should not be named. Two to my home line - from his office number and his wireless, then an immediate ring to my business line (which btw does not have caller ID on it.) I didn't answer any of them. I was busy on the phone with someone else.
No message. Whatever. I think he must be missing some possession of his that he thinks he left here. Unless it is those stupid ties I have sitting out in my garage...he's out of luck.
Sunday, July 29, 2007
I look like I've been doing exactly what I've been doing
Words said to the mirror this morning.
I've got so much material, so much rich material from this weekend alone, the blog is probably not going to suffice. It was like every 15 minutes, a scene occurred just for me, all interesting and glittering and bizarre and even surreal. Every 15 minutes I thought, my god, this shit doesn't stop tonite, does it?
So I wrote about the peeing off the boat. So much for yacht hair...I almost saw yacht penis.
After the boating, we took a cab to a place at the beach that clearly is one of Southern Gent's hang outs. Restaurant/club. Good food. The evening begins at the very crowded bar, where we nab two seats, and he allows Harley Girl and I to sit. I think, how nice. What this allows for, though, is for him to mingle and hang with his cronies. What a bunch of rich, connected jerks.
First tidbit: We meet a friend of his who is a judge there in that district. Nice enough at first. We are all having trouble getting drinks. The place is packed, college boy bartender is clearly in the weeds. I'm patient, knowing he'll get to us when he gets to us. The judge, however, who clearly has trouble making eye contact - that is, unless he thinks my breasts are eyes and if that's the case then he's got me locked in a stare- says, "Why don't you just stand up and lean over the bar? That ought to get great service..."
Wow and you enforce and uphold the laws of the land down here, huh?
I have to say, he seems shocked when I answer him in detail about who I work for and what I do. Omigod, she's smart too and she has boobs. Who is this mythical creature. I liked the look of fear in his eyes, made me fuck with him a little more. I was ridiculously sweet to his date -whom everyone else was ignoring and whom he didn't bother to introduce to us to.
Another crony kept telling Harley girl and I that he was married. I wanted to look around and say that he clearly had us confused with someone who gave a damn about who he was. Your big summer house in Pine Knolls Shores does not impress. (Nor does your shocking orange surf shirt, which incidentally matches the shocking blue shirt found on the judge. Their Tommy Bahama uniforms must have been worn the evening before. )It doesn't overcome the fact that you are bald. And scrawny. And I'm imagining this whole crowd with ED and prostate issues and this just does not get me all excited.
(I'd like to find young and moneyed. So far, I've already had for almost 18 months young, cheap, unmoneyed, rude and cruel. I've now experienced older, moneyed, rude, and generous. )
Waiter, please, can I have young, moneyed, and nice? Is that even on the menu?
I digress.
Southern Gent asks me to go see Chicago for the next night in Raleigh. By Chicago I mean cheezy, horn-heavy, boring ass white guy music. I think, why not. I'll overlook the pissing thing. I'll overlook the rude rich friends A girl's gotta eat.
He proceeds to ask if he can stay at my house.
The look of shock on my face (I was not filtering at this point. I had lost interest in acting.) stopped him short. He added, "In your spare room- or couch."
Yes, I have a spare room thank you. No, you cannot sleep over.
He's miffed I'm not giving in to this. Ugh. Dude, you are hanging by a thread, don't bring your own knife edge and start swinging it around over your head.
Fast forward a few minutes. Oh the judge has returned to our area. Yippee. They begin to talk about the two week vacay in BVI. I listen. No feigned excitement. My parents did that trip 8 years ago, didn't sound all that impressive to me then, and it certainly doesn't now with these wahoos. Southern Gent says he's going to bring me, his new gf. I laugh nervously, but charmingly add a random "sounds like fun" in there somewhere between the twittering.
He then sticks his foot in his mouth by announcing that I would have to put out for that trip.
WOW.
Did he say that? I'm deaf in one ear. I'm pretty sure he said it. Yeah, I'm pretty sure he said it. Surreal. I don't need to editorialize on that one. It stands tall on its own, a warning to women everywhere.
I didn't justify that with a response. My bladder was full and the bathroom - with all its own glamourous activities - was beckoning.
I return to my seat 5 minutes later, more confident than ever, just saying to myself, "what the hell else could happen tonite?" I sit next to the guy that Harley girl was talking to previously. He is not a crony of Southern Gent, but he's got a mouth on him too and proceeds to tell me, during a rapid-fire, Lorelai and Rory-like exchange, the following items:
I've got so much material, so much rich material from this weekend alone, the blog is probably not going to suffice. It was like every 15 minutes, a scene occurred just for me, all interesting and glittering and bizarre and even surreal. Every 15 minutes I thought, my god, this shit doesn't stop tonite, does it?
So I wrote about the peeing off the boat. So much for yacht hair...I almost saw yacht penis.
After the boating, we took a cab to a place at the beach that clearly is one of Southern Gent's hang outs. Restaurant/club. Good food. The evening begins at the very crowded bar, where we nab two seats, and he allows Harley Girl and I to sit. I think, how nice. What this allows for, though, is for him to mingle and hang with his cronies. What a bunch of rich, connected jerks.
First tidbit: We meet a friend of his who is a judge there in that district. Nice enough at first. We are all having trouble getting drinks. The place is packed, college boy bartender is clearly in the weeds. I'm patient, knowing he'll get to us when he gets to us. The judge, however, who clearly has trouble making eye contact - that is, unless he thinks my breasts are eyes and if that's the case then he's got me locked in a stare- says, "Why don't you just stand up and lean over the bar? That ought to get great service..."
Wow and you enforce and uphold the laws of the land down here, huh?
I have to say, he seems shocked when I answer him in detail about who I work for and what I do. Omigod, she's smart too and she has boobs. Who is this mythical creature. I liked the look of fear in his eyes, made me fuck with him a little more. I was ridiculously sweet to his date -whom everyone else was ignoring and whom he didn't bother to introduce to us to.
Another crony kept telling Harley girl and I that he was married. I wanted to look around and say that he clearly had us confused with someone who gave a damn about who he was. Your big summer house in Pine Knolls Shores does not impress. (Nor does your shocking orange surf shirt, which incidentally matches the shocking blue shirt found on the judge. Their Tommy Bahama uniforms must have been worn the evening before. )It doesn't overcome the fact that you are bald. And scrawny. And I'm imagining this whole crowd with ED and prostate issues and this just does not get me all excited.
(I'd like to find young and moneyed. So far, I've already had for almost 18 months young, cheap, unmoneyed, rude and cruel. I've now experienced older, moneyed, rude, and generous. )
Waiter, please, can I have young, moneyed, and nice? Is that even on the menu?
I digress.
Southern Gent asks me to go see Chicago for the next night in Raleigh. By Chicago I mean cheezy, horn-heavy, boring ass white guy music. I think, why not. I'll overlook the pissing thing. I'll overlook the rude rich friends A girl's gotta eat.
He proceeds to ask if he can stay at my house.
The look of shock on my face (I was not filtering at this point. I had lost interest in acting.) stopped him short. He added, "In your spare room- or couch."
Yes, I have a spare room thank you. No, you cannot sleep over.
He's miffed I'm not giving in to this. Ugh. Dude, you are hanging by a thread, don't bring your own knife edge and start swinging it around over your head.
Fast forward a few minutes. Oh the judge has returned to our area. Yippee. They begin to talk about the two week vacay in BVI. I listen. No feigned excitement. My parents did that trip 8 years ago, didn't sound all that impressive to me then, and it certainly doesn't now with these wahoos. Southern Gent says he's going to bring me, his new gf. I laugh nervously, but charmingly add a random "sounds like fun" in there somewhere between the twittering.
He then sticks his foot in his mouth by announcing that I would have to put out for that trip.
WOW.
Did he say that? I'm deaf in one ear. I'm pretty sure he said it. Yeah, I'm pretty sure he said it. Surreal. I don't need to editorialize on that one. It stands tall on its own, a warning to women everywhere.
I didn't justify that with a response. My bladder was full and the bathroom - with all its own glamourous activities - was beckoning.
I return to my seat 5 minutes later, more confident than ever, just saying to myself, "what the hell else could happen tonite?" I sit next to the guy that Harley girl was talking to previously. He is not a crony of Southern Gent, but he's got a mouth on him too and proceeds to tell me, during a rapid-fire, Lorelai and Rory-like exchange, the following items:
- Why didn't I marry you?
- You should know that I'm gay
- I'm gay and I'm married
- No, I'm married to woman and gay with a man lover
- How's your husband?
- He's not your husband, he's your boyfriend?
- You DID NOT just meet him today
- Let me guess, Match.com?
- What friend dislikes you that much?
- We would have beautiful children
- They would be able to run really fast - I can run like the wind
- He's not worthy
- He's a tool
- You aren't going to date him again, are you?
That was all in less than 60 seconds. My answers to each of those questions were just as quick.
We leave the bar area, finally! to go see the Journey, Semisonic, Black Crowes, Police cover band in the back. There is a woman there, older than my own mother, wearing a shirt that says:
Went on vacation. Came back on probation.
Oh! You went to Myrtle Beach and got that shirt. Ahhh I get it, I get it. White trash humour. Knee slapper.
Even better. Two women on the dance floor. Clearly in their mid fifties. Skinny legs, huge huge I- look -pregnant-but-can't-possibly be-cuz-I-am-that-old beer guts. They are dancing around with toilet paper tied around their foreheads. I don't know why. I don't understand why no one else is even watching them. It's a car wreck! I can't look away! Am I seeing things?! What am I doing here? Oh and they know the older one who is apparently now on probation because of the spoils of whatever sort of trouble she rassled up down there in Myrtle. Of course they know her. Sometimes the beach crowd is weird.
Had enough? I had.
We leave in a cab. He makes the driver take him home first. So we can see his house. Yes, okay Southern Gent, dude you have a nice big house. A cool, purebred yellow lab. I like the golf course view. I like the cars (plural that is. Swimming pools, movie stars...) I like the country club address, I do.
I do not think you are nice.
And since I have already done one tour recently with a not at all nice guy who looked good on paper but wore stiped shirts, and this experience has taught me to once again stand up for myself, I will overlook the generosity, the money, the cars, the lovely lovely lovely dog I met, the boat, the southern charm, the breeding, the shagging, the clever drop of the rs, the full head of hair, the confidence at the helm of the boat, the prep school and political connections. I will overlook all of this because I deserve all this PLUS NICE.
And now I'm off looking for it.
He's a tool and so is he...
I'm on my way out of Beaufort-by-the-sea and heading down Hwy 24 to Swansboro for the day for some more boating with a different set of friends from yesterday and different boat...but before I do, I have to tell you an oh so quick tidbit from last night.
I had low expectations for this one, right?
Well, we got picked up, via boat, right outside our place by Southern Gent. And this turns out to be an apropos name. He drops his rs in all the right places, he knows all the right families, he can shag, he went to prep school in VAH-JIN-YAH, etc. (Andohbytheway, I don't mean shag in the Brit way.) He's handsome, the boat is nice, he's confident. He's got great hair. It is not yacht hair, but its close, and its thick and has only a slight bit o'gray. Honestly, this man looks great for 47.
He's packed a cooler for us. Choice of good white, red wine or vodka and mixers. Takes us out to Shackleford Banks to see the horses. The boat is great, the sunset impressive. I'm digging it, man. He's treating us both fabulously. He's charming. Harley girl is impressed as well. I'm thinking, sweet. I wouldn't mind wasting some time with this guy. Could be fun.
I thought that until the moment when, 25 minutes into our boat trip (and our friendship), whilst Harley Girl was in the cabin below taking a quick pee, he decided, right in front of me, to piss off the back of the boat.
Then, 2 minutes after that, he made a bong out of a 7up can and took to taking a few hits.
Yeah.
Lots more to come. So much its gonna take hours to marinate on today. Plus I got a LAME ASS message from he-who-should-not-be-named at around 9pm last night. Message said:
"Out of courtesy, by any chance ru going to a house party in 5pts tonite?"
Out of courtesy, you Tool you, please get the fuck out of my life. I don't give a hairy rats ASS that you are going to a party in Five Points. My world no longer intersects with yours. You hang out in Sears Craftsman Central with all the other striped shirt guys. Drink your red bull, hang out with the girls who like Lifetime movies of the week and own cats.
I thought the message itself was mean spirited under the guise of courtesy, the worst sort of conceit there is. Sums up what I think of him, and my response back to him was silence.
I had low expectations for this one, right?
Well, we got picked up, via boat, right outside our place by Southern Gent. And this turns out to be an apropos name. He drops his rs in all the right places, he knows all the right families, he can shag, he went to prep school in VAH-JIN-YAH, etc. (Andohbytheway, I don't mean shag in the Brit way.) He's handsome, the boat is nice, he's confident. He's got great hair. It is not yacht hair, but its close, and its thick and has only a slight bit o'gray. Honestly, this man looks great for 47.
He's packed a cooler for us. Choice of good white, red wine or vodka and mixers. Takes us out to Shackleford Banks to see the horses. The boat is great, the sunset impressive. I'm digging it, man. He's treating us both fabulously. He's charming. Harley girl is impressed as well. I'm thinking, sweet. I wouldn't mind wasting some time with this guy. Could be fun.
I thought that until the moment when, 25 minutes into our boat trip (and our friendship), whilst Harley Girl was in the cabin below taking a quick pee, he decided, right in front of me, to piss off the back of the boat.
Then, 2 minutes after that, he made a bong out of a 7up can and took to taking a few hits.
Yeah.
Lots more to come. So much its gonna take hours to marinate on today. Plus I got a LAME ASS message from he-who-should-not-be-named at around 9pm last night. Message said:
"Out of courtesy, by any chance ru going to a house party in 5pts tonite?"
Out of courtesy, you Tool you, please get the fuck out of my life. I don't give a hairy rats ASS that you are going to a party in Five Points. My world no longer intersects with yours. You hang out in Sears Craftsman Central with all the other striped shirt guys. Drink your red bull, hang out with the girls who like Lifetime movies of the week and own cats.
I thought the message itself was mean spirited under the guise of courtesy, the worst sort of conceit there is. Sums up what I think of him, and my response back to him was silence.
Saturday, July 28, 2007
Beaufort-by-the sea
Whoohoo. Gone out five nights in a row and had a good week at work . Life IS good.
Blogging from the beach. With Harley Girl. She is so fun - I treasure this time. We've known each other for 7 years now and have not spent nearly enough time together lately. My bad and I am fixing it. Its a bit overcast and our plans changed with Southern Gent (no boat ride - gray skies over the Atlantic today) to drinks this evening. Still not know what to expect with all that.
So, Fun Girl. Good post. Last night was good times, good times.
First things first - the night began with Ad Girl at Humble Pie. Fun Girl and the rest of the entourage arrived and we moved to the SparkCon fest. The modeling gig is something to look forward to.
We've come up with a name for Ad Girl's man, but as alcohol and frivolity was involved, amnesia has now set in. Was it Uncle Big Bad? Uncle Dig Dug? The bourbon obviously deleted that cache...
Fun Girl missed the good times at Mosquito. Another DJ took over and the dancing just basically erupted. INXS, David Bowie. Nostalgia dancing. Ad Girl and I had lots of entertainment on the dance floor from T...he doesn't have a name yet either. No fear in that one. He's out to have fun. Not at anyone else's expense, just at his own. Refreshing to see and be around. Infectious, evvvvuhhnnn.
Left and made my trip slightly westward to our favorite dive. No sign of Punk Boy. Disappointing slightly. I'm intrigued. He's posted a book on his MySpace page that was a recco from me on Tuesday night. Clearly made a good impression. I'm taking it as a small sign from the universe.
So the place was packed. We did hold court. Can't remember having so much fun dancing to Rupert Holmes and "I've had the time of my life" in one night. Sounds awful but it wasn't. Danced with someone who turned out to be one of the more obnoxious people I've met in eons.
Let's call him Chickpea. That's our moniker for him from last night as it rhymes with his actual name.
More on that later. Southern Gent just called, and I need to get back to Harley girl. We're sitting on the verandah dahlings in beautiful Beaufort by the Sea, and I just want to enjoy myself for awhile.
I miss my Raleigh girls! XXOO
Blogging from the beach. With Harley Girl. She is so fun - I treasure this time. We've known each other for 7 years now and have not spent nearly enough time together lately. My bad and I am fixing it. Its a bit overcast and our plans changed with Southern Gent (no boat ride - gray skies over the Atlantic today) to drinks this evening. Still not know what to expect with all that.
So, Fun Girl. Good post. Last night was good times, good times.
First things first - the night began with Ad Girl at Humble Pie. Fun Girl and the rest of the entourage arrived and we moved to the SparkCon fest. The modeling gig is something to look forward to.
We've come up with a name for Ad Girl's man, but as alcohol and frivolity was involved, amnesia has now set in. Was it Uncle Big Bad? Uncle Dig Dug? The bourbon obviously deleted that cache...
Fun Girl missed the good times at Mosquito. Another DJ took over and the dancing just basically erupted. INXS, David Bowie. Nostalgia dancing. Ad Girl and I had lots of entertainment on the dance floor from T...he doesn't have a name yet either. No fear in that one. He's out to have fun. Not at anyone else's expense, just at his own. Refreshing to see and be around. Infectious, evvvvuhhnnn.
Left and made my trip slightly westward to our favorite dive. No sign of Punk Boy. Disappointing slightly. I'm intrigued. He's posted a book on his MySpace page that was a recco from me on Tuesday night. Clearly made a good impression. I'm taking it as a small sign from the universe.
So the place was packed. We did hold court. Can't remember having so much fun dancing to Rupert Holmes and "I've had the time of my life" in one night. Sounds awful but it wasn't. Danced with someone who turned out to be one of the more obnoxious people I've met in eons.
Let's call him Chickpea. That's our moniker for him from last night as it rhymes with his actual name.
More on that later. Southern Gent just called, and I need to get back to Harley girl. We're sitting on the verandah dahlings in beautiful Beaufort by the Sea, and I just want to enjoy myself for awhile.
I miss my Raleigh girls! XXOO
Artist's Block
Ridiculously fun evening with my nearest and dearest friends last night. I think I may have even scored a modeling gig for myself and my partner in crime. And no, it's not the cliche modeling as in "show us your goodies girls, I'm a nasty little photographer". This is legitimate, a runway show for a good cause called Sparkcon which promotes local designers and artists. I think I could use a little catwalk to build my spirits. Plus, I have been toying with the idea of pursuing a few gigs here and there based on solicitations (read: tasteful) from various photographers and P.R. folks I have run into lately. So who knows how this will motivate me. Nothing but positive is the way I'm looking at it.
Back to last night. Had a fabulous time shaking it down at the dirty little Jackpot dive in downtown Raleigh. Literally ended the evening shaking my ass to the song Pina Colladas with a sweet military man, nothing but innocent intentions, all of us motivated by the summer air and celebrations of every one's newly single status in the summer of '07. And yes, it is contagious, folks. So this is the part where I digress for a moment: My brother recently moved to New York City, and it honestly aches I miss him so much. He was my other partner in crime. I have since become attached to his "friend" a sweet young girl that reminds me of myself in a lot of ways when I was her age. Just one of those things where you know you like someone instantly. We are each others link to a dear sweet soul in a Metropolis far away from home. We have come to develop a sweet friendship out of our ache. Our entire crew consisted of old best friends, family, new best friends. I felt so free and so safe all at the same time. It was quite lovely and intoxicating. Something in the air, something about the mix of friends, something about the alcohol? Maybe...but we all felt like we were unstoppable. Without saying a word we knew we were all in the same metaphysical plane and we were tight, man.
What is it about this manic phase where in one moment the heartbreak you are experiencing can catapult you into the arms of others and all of a sudden life is pretty damn good? If only for a day, an evening, a few hours.....we all need it. I for one am feeding on it if only to keep me sane in the hours that I am away from my dark little house with I share with the fella of my "dreams". Someone should change the definition of that term, at least temporarily for me, please?
So partner in crime holds court all evening at her booth, I mean throne. Literally, our entourage was seated in an elevated booth facing out to the bar, all of us dancing and giggling, swilling our drinks and grabbing at each other, N. in the center of it all, her blonde hair shining, she's glowing and people are flocking to step up onto the platform to address the gorgeous blonde godfather (note to readers - this is an inside joke but oh so appropriate) and her subjects. At one point I think we had more people surrounding us on our little platform than in the rest of the bar. It was fabulous. And she so needed this night after the hell she has been through. It was a fucking great thing to see.
So I titled this entry Artist's Block. And yes when I started typing I felt dark and dirty, small and incapable as fella of my dreams had yet again convinced me this morning that I am utterly powerless in my existence with him, and even more so if I try to leave him. But you know, Ms. Godfather reminds me how therapeutic and enlightening it is to write it out. Dammit I think she's onto something. This entry has lifted my iron curtain. Thanks N. I love you. I am going to work on my paintings now.
Back to last night. Had a fabulous time shaking it down at the dirty little Jackpot dive in downtown Raleigh. Literally ended the evening shaking my ass to the song Pina Colladas with a sweet military man, nothing but innocent intentions, all of us motivated by the summer air and celebrations of every one's newly single status in the summer of '07. And yes, it is contagious, folks. So this is the part where I digress for a moment: My brother recently moved to New York City, and it honestly aches I miss him so much. He was my other partner in crime. I have since become attached to his "friend" a sweet young girl that reminds me of myself in a lot of ways when I was her age. Just one of those things where you know you like someone instantly. We are each others link to a dear sweet soul in a Metropolis far away from home. We have come to develop a sweet friendship out of our ache. Our entire crew consisted of old best friends, family, new best friends. I felt so free and so safe all at the same time. It was quite lovely and intoxicating. Something in the air, something about the mix of friends, something about the alcohol? Maybe...but we all felt like we were unstoppable. Without saying a word we knew we were all in the same metaphysical plane and we were tight, man.
What is it about this manic phase where in one moment the heartbreak you are experiencing can catapult you into the arms of others and all of a sudden life is pretty damn good? If only for a day, an evening, a few hours.....we all need it. I for one am feeding on it if only to keep me sane in the hours that I am away from my dark little house with I share with the fella of my "dreams". Someone should change the definition of that term, at least temporarily for me, please?
So partner in crime holds court all evening at her booth, I mean throne. Literally, our entourage was seated in an elevated booth facing out to the bar, all of us dancing and giggling, swilling our drinks and grabbing at each other, N. in the center of it all, her blonde hair shining, she's glowing and people are flocking to step up onto the platform to address the gorgeous blonde godfather (note to readers - this is an inside joke but oh so appropriate) and her subjects. At one point I think we had more people surrounding us on our little platform than in the rest of the bar. It was fabulous. And she so needed this night after the hell she has been through. It was a fucking great thing to see.
So I titled this entry Artist's Block. And yes when I started typing I felt dark and dirty, small and incapable as fella of my dreams had yet again convinced me this morning that I am utterly powerless in my existence with him, and even more so if I try to leave him. But you know, Ms. Godfather reminds me how therapeutic and enlightening it is to write it out. Dammit I think she's onto something. This entry has lifted my iron curtain. Thanks N. I love you. I am going to work on my paintings now.
Friday, July 27, 2007
Scenester Guy Version - first draft - more to come
I am a scenester.
I love Air. I love that song from Peter, Bjorn and John. My picture is posted in Wiki under the heading "Emo".
I wear thick, dark framed glasses. I like to buy my clothes at Thrift stores. My Friday night shirt is an old Pine State Creamery truck drivers shirt, which I wear with my truck driver baseball cap and chuck taylors.
Irony and sarcasm ooze from me.
I have lived in NYC at one point in the past two years, and I am always in a state of potentially moving there.
I have contests with my friends over the t-shirts I wear. Who can wear the most obscure band's t-shirt. Who can find the oldest t-shirt from the 70s.
I think the White Stripes and the Strokes are too commercial.
I like a lot of bands that suck, but I have to like them b/c everyone else thinks they are cool.
My girlfriend wears the same glasses I do. She wears shirts like the ones they sell at urban outfitters but hers are authentically from a thrift store or Aunt Mildred's attic. We eat a lot of Tofu.
We drink PBR not because it is cheap but because it is ironic.
I smoke Parliments.
I have a tatoo and it means something.
I pay more for my haircut than what I spend on food in a month.
Cup a Joe makes my breakfast. Everyday. At noon. Or later.
All my friends are writers, musicians, poets, producers. As well as waiters. Or bartenders.
I live in my late thirties just as I did in my early twenties. Only now I am considered old school.
I do not like Flight of the Concords, even though they look and act and live as I do. I don't care. Their show is on HBO and I cannot condone that. It is just not cool.
I love Air. I love that song from Peter, Bjorn and John. My picture is posted in Wiki under the heading "Emo".
I wear thick, dark framed glasses. I like to buy my clothes at Thrift stores. My Friday night shirt is an old Pine State Creamery truck drivers shirt, which I wear with my truck driver baseball cap and chuck taylors.
Irony and sarcasm ooze from me.
I have lived in NYC at one point in the past two years, and I am always in a state of potentially moving there.
I have contests with my friends over the t-shirts I wear. Who can wear the most obscure band's t-shirt. Who can find the oldest t-shirt from the 70s.
I think the White Stripes and the Strokes are too commercial.
I like a lot of bands that suck, but I have to like them b/c everyone else thinks they are cool.
My girlfriend wears the same glasses I do. She wears shirts like the ones they sell at urban outfitters but hers are authentically from a thrift store or Aunt Mildred's attic. We eat a lot of Tofu.
We drink PBR not because it is cheap but because it is ironic.
I smoke Parliments.
I have a tatoo and it means something.
I pay more for my haircut than what I spend on food in a month.
Cup a Joe makes my breakfast. Everyday. At noon. Or later.
All my friends are writers, musicians, poets, producers. As well as waiters. Or bartenders.
I live in my late thirties just as I did in my early twenties. Only now I am considered old school.
I do not like Flight of the Concords, even though they look and act and live as I do. I don't care. Their show is on HBO and I cannot condone that. It is just not cool.
Raleigh version of the Striped Shirt email...
I got this email about Striped Shirt club guys, and it just hit way too close to home. We all recognized the striped shirt guy we know.
I've modified the original a bit to make it fit even better. Here's our local, personalized version:
Look at My Striped Shirt Raleigh!
Look at my buttondown striped shirt!
I bought it at Banana! Or at FCUK! I know how to dress!
Fucking look at it! Look at my chest hair poking out of it!
This shirt means one thing! I'm coming home with some pussy tonight! That's right! Its been a long week at the office, and its time to blow off a little steam! I am single mid-thirties guy! I am a Marketing Manager! I have an MBA! I work in RTP! I have business cards that say Marketing Manager - WW! on them! I do regular conference calls with China! Here! Have one! Take it!
My boys are coming out with me tonight! They all have striped shirts too! We're going to Glenwood South! We all call each other by our last names! None of them are as cool or as good looking as me, which means I can feel good at myself at their expense! And I get first crack at the hot girls! I figure we'll kick off the night with some Trivia! I went to Princeton! I am going to beat the hell out of all of you! Its going to be so fucking loud! Ill bet I can win a bar card that gets me 20 bucks worth of free drinks! I'm that fucking pumped! I'm that fucking cheap!
I can almost taste those vodka sodas right now! I might need a Red Bull! I'm thinking about buying foreign, overpriced car this year! I live in Oberlin Court! I live inside the beltline! My address makes me cool! I have an ego bigger than the RBC Center!
I'm gonna grind on girls asses tonight! You heard me! When I see a group of girls dancing in a circle at White Collar, I will stare at them to make them notice me! I went to Princeton! Staring makes me cool! I am 35 but I like 'em 28! I will select the thinnest, dumbest, youngest looking one and dry hump her until it hurts! I will only dance with shorter ones so they cannot see the spreading baldness I have!
I will valet tonight at Sullivan's! I will treat the valet with contempt and make sure that he knows that I am superior to him in life! I went to Princeton! Clearly he didn't! I work in RTP! Clearly he doesn't! I will tell him, Take it easy on the brakes, champ! I will tip him badly! I'm that fucking cheap!
At Hibernian, I will talk to people I don't know about my job tonight! They will all know that I am an important man! I am corporate RTP! I travel! I have been to South Africa! I went to Princeton! I have been to China! I have jumped out of an airplane! Once! I live inside the beltline! I have a blackberry pearl! I will call female bartenders babe and male bartenders dude! I will not tip too much! I'm that cheap! When I do not hook up with a girl at Mosaic, I will say that the place is full of skanks! Raleigh sucks!
We will wait in a long line to go to Ess Lounge, only to strike out again! It's not my fault, its Raleigh! I will give up and decide to order a gyro off a street vendor! I will look ridiculous purchasing my gyro, because people will be able to tell by my striped shirt and tinted sunglasses and pigeon chest that I struck out and am settling for a gyro! I went to Princeton! I will make one last attempt to hook up by trying to coax two girls who are also ordering gyros into coming back to my place for after hours! When they say no I will make fun of them! I think I am so funny! I will text ex-girlfriends who are out of town so it looks like I know people! They don't answer so they suck!
I will leave! I will drive home to Cameron Village in my Ford! When I get home I will go to the bathroom and hold the straight razor to my wrist again! But not until I have a good round of masturbation! I will gently drag the razor laterally against my vein, making sure not to actually cut myself!I will then go to my couch and pass out! I will need some shuteye so that Ill be ready to fucking party again tomorrow!
I am so cool! I have chest hair! I work in RTP! I went to Princeton!
I've modified the original a bit to make it fit even better. Here's our local, personalized version:
Look at My Striped Shirt Raleigh!
Look at my buttondown striped shirt!
I bought it at Banana! Or at FCUK! I know how to dress!
Fucking look at it! Look at my chest hair poking out of it!
This shirt means one thing! I'm coming home with some pussy tonight! That's right! Its been a long week at the office, and its time to blow off a little steam! I am single mid-thirties guy! I am a Marketing Manager! I have an MBA! I work in RTP! I have business cards that say Marketing Manager - WW! on them! I do regular conference calls with China! Here! Have one! Take it!
My boys are coming out with me tonight! They all have striped shirts too! We're going to Glenwood South! We all call each other by our last names! None of them are as cool or as good looking as me, which means I can feel good at myself at their expense! And I get first crack at the hot girls! I figure we'll kick off the night with some Trivia! I went to Princeton! I am going to beat the hell out of all of you! Its going to be so fucking loud! Ill bet I can win a bar card that gets me 20 bucks worth of free drinks! I'm that fucking pumped! I'm that fucking cheap!
I can almost taste those vodka sodas right now! I might need a Red Bull! I'm thinking about buying foreign, overpriced car this year! I live in Oberlin Court! I live inside the beltline! My address makes me cool! I have an ego bigger than the RBC Center!
I'm gonna grind on girls asses tonight! You heard me! When I see a group of girls dancing in a circle at White Collar, I will stare at them to make them notice me! I went to Princeton! Staring makes me cool! I am 35 but I like 'em 28! I will select the thinnest, dumbest, youngest looking one and dry hump her until it hurts! I will only dance with shorter ones so they cannot see the spreading baldness I have!
I will valet tonight at Sullivan's! I will treat the valet with contempt and make sure that he knows that I am superior to him in life! I went to Princeton! Clearly he didn't! I work in RTP! Clearly he doesn't! I will tell him, Take it easy on the brakes, champ! I will tip him badly! I'm that fucking cheap!
At Hibernian, I will talk to people I don't know about my job tonight! They will all know that I am an important man! I am corporate RTP! I travel! I have been to South Africa! I went to Princeton! I have been to China! I have jumped out of an airplane! Once! I live inside the beltline! I have a blackberry pearl! I will call female bartenders babe and male bartenders dude! I will not tip too much! I'm that cheap! When I do not hook up with a girl at Mosaic, I will say that the place is full of skanks! Raleigh sucks!
We will wait in a long line to go to Ess Lounge, only to strike out again! It's not my fault, its Raleigh! I will give up and decide to order a gyro off a street vendor! I will look ridiculous purchasing my gyro, because people will be able to tell by my striped shirt and tinted sunglasses and pigeon chest that I struck out and am settling for a gyro! I went to Princeton! I will make one last attempt to hook up by trying to coax two girls who are also ordering gyros into coming back to my place for after hours! When they say no I will make fun of them! I think I am so funny! I will text ex-girlfriends who are out of town so it looks like I know people! They don't answer so they suck!
I will leave! I will drive home to Cameron Village in my Ford! When I get home I will go to the bathroom and hold the straight razor to my wrist again! But not until I have a good round of masturbation! I will gently drag the razor laterally against my vein, making sure not to actually cut myself!I will then go to my couch and pass out! I will need some shuteye so that Ill be ready to fucking party again tomorrow!
I am so cool! I have chest hair! I work in RTP! I went to Princeton!
Boys Don't Cry...
but they are kinda annoying when they drink too much.
Many boys drank too much while out of the town in Raleigh last night, and some of those boys were at Tir Na Nog. The atmosphere got so annoying that I left to head to the smoky recesses of the Jackpot before the band stopped playing.
Funny moments there?
Many boys drank too much while out of the town in Raleigh last night, and some of those boys were at Tir Na Nog. The atmosphere got so annoying that I left to head to the smoky recesses of the Jackpot before the band stopped playing.
Funny moments there?
- Running into the guy I had my "I've got to have sex with at least one person while we are broken up" night with last fall when I was sad, angry girl. It wasn't awkward at all. Probably b/c he has no idea he has a small penis and that's the reason why I never saw him after that night...
- Having some guy in a green shirt hit on me, and he kept coming up and whispering in my deaf ear, and I would smile and laugh and he'd go away for awhile and come back and do it again. I couldn't hear a thing. Who knows what he was saying? I didn't care. It's amazing what you get by with by nodding and smiling. The whole thing was entertaining Fun Girl so I kept it up for awhile...
So was it a date with Punk Rock boy last Tuesday evening?
Yes, indeed it was.
How do I know?
Because he referred to it as such to a friend last night at the bar ("Its been a good week. She and I had a great date on Tuesday...") Nothing exciting happened with him last night. Some sexual tension. Fun Girl caught him staring a lot at me when I wasn't looking. He's playing it really really cool. And for some of the night, this was fun.
But later in the night, his partner in crime was out with him, and they drank a lot. Some of you know exactly who I speak of. Hint: He likes to double down at the wrong time. That person was really drunk last night. Shocker! He asked a hot girl if she would make out with him within 60 seconds of starting a conversation. After last call, he was like a pinball...rolling around the bar, pushing buttons on whoever he could run into that was female, hoping to score big with one of them. He grabbed my ass four times last night. (After the final one, I left and Punk Rock boy pushed me out the door and said - "This is for your own protection. He's nuts.") It's not like I left early, the ugly lights were on, but I had clearly stayed too long.
Off tonite to a COOL party with Ad Girl - a fundraiser dowtown for SparkCon (http://www.sparkcon.com/) that should be fun. I believe I have talked Fun Girl into going with us - perhaps- I don't know - it sounded like she was considering it last night...but the beach is beckoning and I wouldn't blame her if she changed her mind.
Tomorrow I am off to Beaufort to meet with Southern Gent. Spoke with him again on the phone and he's taking Harley Girl and I "up to the Cape" in his boat. I have no expectations about his one (Harley Girl says that's a good way to be - how can I be disappointed?) so who knows what's gonna happen.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Consider this....hint of the century
Wednesday night. Third night in a row.
No date last night. Just meeting work friends, some current, some former, over in Durham at Alivia's and Federal for drinks. Nothing juicy to report - too big a crowd for any of that to really surface...
With the exception that my coworker's neighbor apparently blew Lewis Black 15 years ago in a (misguided?) attempt to thwart his full-on sexual advances. Yeah. When does giving someone a blow job thwart sexual advances. "I'll blow you so I don't have to sleep with you??" What did she get out of that? (Oh I have an answer actually. Pick me! Pick me! She got scented candles.) And it was Lewis Black?! Ewwww.
This was the center of conversation for the first 30 minutes when I arrived. I think we managed to offend anyone within earshot of us.
Lots of laughs. Good times, good times. I laughed so much that my cheeks were hurting on the way home in the car...
I ran into my ex-fiancee (how weird is that? Ad Girl's man ran into him yesterday too...) and got to meet his new girlfriend. They seem happy and are clearly well-matched. Both were as nice as could be. Well done both of you!
Overall, just a really really fun night. I walked back to my car from Federal at the end of the night to the strains of a cover of "Losing My Religion" coming from Alivia's. The universe sending me messages again.
No date last night. Just meeting work friends, some current, some former, over in Durham at Alivia's and Federal for drinks. Nothing juicy to report - too big a crowd for any of that to really surface...
With the exception that my coworker's neighbor apparently blew Lewis Black 15 years ago in a (misguided?) attempt to thwart his full-on sexual advances. Yeah. When does giving someone a blow job thwart sexual advances. "I'll blow you so I don't have to sleep with you??" What did she get out of that? (Oh I have an answer actually. Pick me! Pick me! She got scented candles.) And it was Lewis Black?! Ewwww.
This was the center of conversation for the first 30 minutes when I arrived. I think we managed to offend anyone within earshot of us.
Lots of laughs. Good times, good times. I laughed so much that my cheeks were hurting on the way home in the car...
I ran into my ex-fiancee (how weird is that? Ad Girl's man ran into him yesterday too...) and got to meet his new girlfriend. They seem happy and are clearly well-matched. Both were as nice as could be. Well done both of you!
Overall, just a really really fun night. I walked back to my car from Federal at the end of the night to the strains of a cover of "Losing My Religion" coming from Alivia's. The universe sending me messages again.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Advice to Fun Girls everywhere
From Yahoo! Horoscopes:
Fear can be a kind of drug, too. Just notice how your heart rate accelerates and your hands shake when you spin off into any kind of mental turbulence. You can kick this monkey with some self-love and kindness.
Self love. Mmmmm. Does that mean what I think it means? Ha!
Seriously. I'm embracing the fear. You should too Fun Girl.
Ad Girl gave me a terse (and by terse I should also add much needed)talking to about respecting myself and that I need to stop missing the idea of him. It's not him I miss, but the idea of him. The idea of being part of a couple. The idea that someone is there, ready to catch me if I fall.
Because in reality, the real him is quite disappointing, was quite obviously NOT there to catch me and therefore no one can understand why I am sad.
This is the third conversation I have had on this topic of "ideals" and its just barely sinking in! Thank god I have friends willing to repeat this crap to me! Keep the terse lectures coming...
Hope guides me...
but some moments I forget it is there and I wallow in sadness.
I think being tired, and being a bit hormonal today has thrown me into a small pity party. I suppose there will be days like this, even though I am, for the most part, doing fine.
I know I shouldn't. My head knows this. I know he's a dick. I know I deserve better. But it is such a struggle b/c I haven't ever put my all into a relationship before, and I did that with this one, and still couldn't make it work. If my all isn't good enough, WTF am I gonna do?
I know that my "all" isn't all that counts. He was sabotaging things on his end. He just wasn't that into me, but said he was, and didn't want to feel guilty about the fact that he's insecure about himself, didn't want to feel guilty for fuckin' with my head and my self-esteem, didn't want to be that guy he is. So he looks to blame me, and like an idiot, I took that shit for months.
For months if he said I was insecure, I admitted to myself, "Self, you are insecure. Work on that. Improve." For months I walked around on eggshells b/c he never seemed quite happy about anything going on. Whatever plan I made was always questioned or over-ridden, and it got easier to just wait for him to make the plans (which he rarely did as he has no friends here.) For months I put up with less than mediocre sex from him, faked a lot of O's to protect his ego (Note to self: You are an idiot for doing this...) and got no sort of intimacy from him at all, in terms of a "You look great tonite" or even a daily kiss. We did at one point have a fabulous sex life, but he stopped performing at some point.
It also just occurred to me that he has done this before, this is a pattern with him. Here's how I know:
When we got back together in Dec/January, and I moved his stuff (Note to Self: Idiot! You did all the work!) in to my house, he asked me to consolidate all our owners manuals for appliances into his dorky, circa 1970's file cabinet. So I did, and when I was putting them in there, there was a letter, an email actually, that was sticking out in the folder in front. I snooped - it had caught my eye! It was a letter from the one other woman he had lived with, whom he had gotten to move from Ohio to Atlanta with him.
And then he broke up with her 3 months later. She had to return to Ohio. He began his man-whore stint at Emory Goizueta and Atlanta in general, fucking every 25-28 year old he could. Oops. Did I say that?
But I digress.
So she wrote this email post break up. And you know what, I could have written it back in Oct. when he broke up with me the first time. Here are some quotes: "I've lost weight...I go out with my friends more...I miss you...I wanted to make this work...I wanted to be a teacher so that I could be home with your kids and we could travel overseas in the summers...I wanted to be the kind of wife that J is to your dad - she takes care of him and I know that is important to you...when you said that being a teacher wasn't enough, I thought of going to get my MBA but you said that would be a waste b/c I would just drop out of the workforce to have kids...I hope you change your mind and we can get back together."
And on, and on and on. I recognized some of myself in that letter. It made me shake - I was so upset at the time. Now I never wanted to be a teacher, but for sure he and this girl Chris had discussed all the same things he and I had - children, marriage, travel. He was clearly bothered by her weight gain. (This is a recurring theme with him - he of the fatty hips, chicken arms and sunken chest. Really, who is he to judge? My fiancee from 3 years ago had the body of adonis and never once gave me crap about how I looked...)
They didn't go out much, probably b/c he messed with her self esteem, she got depressed and gained a little weight, and he looked around MBA school and thought, there's a lot of pussy here a lot younger than me and a lot cooler than her that I could hit.
So he broke up with her.
But not wanting to be the bad guy, ( he is so NICE on the surface - isn't he?) he claims she was really small town, and they were mismatched. Bullshit. He made a mistake in asking her to live with him in Atlanta - he was scared of going it alone, but once he got there and saw the buffet of young MBA students and other Hotlanta twenty-somethings, he thought, "What they hell am I doing with boring Miss Small Town Ohio?"
I confronted him over the letter. I was concerned about only about two things: One was that he wanted someone to "take care of him" (dear readers please insert wait on him hand and foot in those quote marks) and most importantly, that he would have the GALL to discourage a woman from pursuing her MBA on the grounds that she might drop out of the workforce for a couple of years to have a kid. How dare he? Heaven forbid, someone discourage a black or hispanic man- he'd be all up in their face about it. But women? This guy, through his actions, has no respect for women.
All he said was that he had changed, and he no longer thought that way. And he made a huge case about me reading the letter, thus deflecting anything he did wrong away from our conversation. The blame almost always rested on me.
Obviously, he has not changed. We all have patterns.
And now, readers, I feel better. He is despicable.
I think being tired, and being a bit hormonal today has thrown me into a small pity party. I suppose there will be days like this, even though I am, for the most part, doing fine.
I know I shouldn't. My head knows this. I know he's a dick. I know I deserve better. But it is such a struggle b/c I haven't ever put my all into a relationship before, and I did that with this one, and still couldn't make it work. If my all isn't good enough, WTF am I gonna do?
I know that my "all" isn't all that counts. He was sabotaging things on his end. He just wasn't that into me, but said he was, and didn't want to feel guilty about the fact that he's insecure about himself, didn't want to feel guilty for fuckin' with my head and my self-esteem, didn't want to be that guy he is. So he looks to blame me, and like an idiot, I took that shit for months.
For months if he said I was insecure, I admitted to myself, "Self, you are insecure. Work on that. Improve." For months I walked around on eggshells b/c he never seemed quite happy about anything going on. Whatever plan I made was always questioned or over-ridden, and it got easier to just wait for him to make the plans (which he rarely did as he has no friends here.) For months I put up with less than mediocre sex from him, faked a lot of O's to protect his ego (Note to self: You are an idiot for doing this...) and got no sort of intimacy from him at all, in terms of a "You look great tonite" or even a daily kiss. We did at one point have a fabulous sex life, but he stopped performing at some point.
It also just occurred to me that he has done this before, this is a pattern with him. Here's how I know:
When we got back together in Dec/January, and I moved his stuff (Note to Self: Idiot! You did all the work!) in to my house, he asked me to consolidate all our owners manuals for appliances into his dorky, circa 1970's file cabinet. So I did, and when I was putting them in there, there was a letter, an email actually, that was sticking out in the folder in front. I snooped - it had caught my eye! It was a letter from the one other woman he had lived with, whom he had gotten to move from Ohio to Atlanta with him.
And then he broke up with her 3 months later. She had to return to Ohio. He began his man-whore stint at Emory Goizueta and Atlanta in general, fucking every 25-28 year old he could. Oops. Did I say that?
But I digress.
So she wrote this email post break up. And you know what, I could have written it back in Oct. when he broke up with me the first time. Here are some quotes: "I've lost weight...I go out with my friends more...I miss you...I wanted to make this work...I wanted to be a teacher so that I could be home with your kids and we could travel overseas in the summers...I wanted to be the kind of wife that J is to your dad - she takes care of him and I know that is important to you...when you said that being a teacher wasn't enough, I thought of going to get my MBA but you said that would be a waste b/c I would just drop out of the workforce to have kids...I hope you change your mind and we can get back together."
And on, and on and on. I recognized some of myself in that letter. It made me shake - I was so upset at the time. Now I never wanted to be a teacher, but for sure he and this girl Chris had discussed all the same things he and I had - children, marriage, travel. He was clearly bothered by her weight gain. (This is a recurring theme with him - he of the fatty hips, chicken arms and sunken chest. Really, who is he to judge? My fiancee from 3 years ago had the body of adonis and never once gave me crap about how I looked...)
They didn't go out much, probably b/c he messed with her self esteem, she got depressed and gained a little weight, and he looked around MBA school and thought, there's a lot of pussy here a lot younger than me and a lot cooler than her that I could hit.
So he broke up with her.
But not wanting to be the bad guy, ( he is so NICE on the surface - isn't he?) he claims she was really small town, and they were mismatched. Bullshit. He made a mistake in asking her to live with him in Atlanta - he was scared of going it alone, but once he got there and saw the buffet of young MBA students and other Hotlanta twenty-somethings, he thought, "What they hell am I doing with boring Miss Small Town Ohio?"
I confronted him over the letter. I was concerned about only about two things: One was that he wanted someone to "take care of him" (dear readers please insert wait on him hand and foot in those quote marks) and most importantly, that he would have the GALL to discourage a woman from pursuing her MBA on the grounds that she might drop out of the workforce for a couple of years to have a kid. How dare he? Heaven forbid, someone discourage a black or hispanic man- he'd be all up in their face about it. But women? This guy, through his actions, has no respect for women.
All he said was that he had changed, and he no longer thought that way. And he made a huge case about me reading the letter, thus deflecting anything he did wrong away from our conversation. The blame almost always rested on me.
Obviously, he has not changed. We all have patterns.
And now, readers, I feel better. He is despicable.
If you don't got Mojo Nixon, your store could use some fixin'
So the date with Punk Rock boy. Bet y'all are dyin' to know.
Well, I'd rate it a 7-8. Pretty fucking comfortable. Ad Girl was right, the night was going to go well, if only for the conversation. Boy, did we converse! We covered the Sopranos finale, Wake County Public Libraries (Fun Girl and I are not the only ones in our age group that drop in for books weekly,) The Filth and the Fury (http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0236216/) Hollywood Babylon books, Don't Stop Believing, Kiss, first concerts, New Jersey, can you dance to New Order?, how long the hours are for singletons between 5pm and 10pm - when one leaves work and when one either goes either to sleep or goes out to a bar, The Jackpot, and iTunes vs. illegal download sites of 2001-2003. We didn't stop talking for hours.
There was a little chemisty - at least I felt it on my part. He's very cute. I've always found him intriguing. I thought it endearing that he dressed up a bit for me. Nice jeans, long sleeved shirt tucked in, a belt. There was no black in this outfit. I almost didn't recognize Punk Rock boy when I encountered him on the street off Glenwood. He's tall and I love that. He was attentive without being obsequious. He's confident. He's comfortable being alone.
The night was just so comfortable but with just a little bit of tension.
I am not sure he thought this was a date...honestly, I am not sure what it was. (Can you go on a first date with someone you have known casually for like 7 years?) Were we just going out as friends? Jeez this dating/going out thing is tiring and confusing. I'm exhausted and its Wednesday. The important thing is that the imaginary line of demarcation is crossed - I have "officially" started dating. I needed to start this, if only to help myself move on.
(I didn't have any, "I'm not going to sleep with this one" moments either. He's still in the running.)
We met up with Fun Girl. She had had a bad day, brought on at least partially by an early evening, pre-date rant session with me. I feel like b/c I was a little angry I egged her on!
We all hung out at the Rockford for awhile. She has, I think, known him longer than I have. Best quote of the night? "It is good to be single. Mmmm mmm summer of '07!" This was said, by Punk Rock boy, at the tail end of a story about skinny dipping post Jackpot a few weeks ago, but still, I am going to embrace the words as a theme for me this summer.
Overall, a good night. Fun Girl followed me home and we were there by 12:45. I had a phone call last night from Southern Gent (older rich guy at the beach in case you forgot and he sounded really nice, really confident without being an ass) and from that guy who went to the Cheese Factory with me Monday night. Also a text from N, short and sweet, about just checking in.
More drama tonite. I'm gonna need the weekend to rest and my Harry Potter book is still bookmarked at Chapter 3.
Well, I'd rate it a 7-8. Pretty fucking comfortable. Ad Girl was right, the night was going to go well, if only for the conversation. Boy, did we converse! We covered the Sopranos finale, Wake County Public Libraries (Fun Girl and I are not the only ones in our age group that drop in for books weekly,) The Filth and the Fury (http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0236216/) Hollywood Babylon books, Don't Stop Believing, Kiss, first concerts, New Jersey, can you dance to New Order?, how long the hours are for singletons between 5pm and 10pm - when one leaves work and when one either goes either to sleep or goes out to a bar, The Jackpot, and iTunes vs. illegal download sites of 2001-2003. We didn't stop talking for hours.
There was a little chemisty - at least I felt it on my part. He's very cute. I've always found him intriguing. I thought it endearing that he dressed up a bit for me. Nice jeans, long sleeved shirt tucked in, a belt. There was no black in this outfit. I almost didn't recognize Punk Rock boy when I encountered him on the street off Glenwood. He's tall and I love that. He was attentive without being obsequious. He's confident. He's comfortable being alone.
The night was just so comfortable but with just a little bit of tension.
I am not sure he thought this was a date...honestly, I am not sure what it was. (Can you go on a first date with someone you have known casually for like 7 years?) Were we just going out as friends? Jeez this dating/going out thing is tiring and confusing. I'm exhausted and its Wednesday. The important thing is that the imaginary line of demarcation is crossed - I have "officially" started dating. I needed to start this, if only to help myself move on.
(I didn't have any, "I'm not going to sleep with this one" moments either. He's still in the running.)
We met up with Fun Girl. She had had a bad day, brought on at least partially by an early evening, pre-date rant session with me. I feel like b/c I was a little angry I egged her on!
We all hung out at the Rockford for awhile. She has, I think, known him longer than I have. Best quote of the night? "It is good to be single. Mmmm mmm summer of '07!" This was said, by Punk Rock boy, at the tail end of a story about skinny dipping post Jackpot a few weeks ago, but still, I am going to embrace the words as a theme for me this summer.
Overall, a good night. Fun Girl followed me home and we were there by 12:45. I had a phone call last night from Southern Gent (older rich guy at the beach in case you forgot and he sounded really nice, really confident without being an ass) and from that guy who went to the Cheese Factory with me Monday night. Also a text from N, short and sweet, about just checking in.
More drama tonite. I'm gonna need the weekend to rest and my Harry Potter book is still bookmarked at Chapter 3.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Fun Girl FINALLY checks in
First thing I have to say is. wtf? Is there something in the water? I totally sound cliche here but what is going on with men, ahem, boys right now? AS I read through the posts I see that there are quite a few girls that have moved onto greener pastures, or shall I say forced on to greener pastures.
So here I sit with my wine and my dog, plotting yet again another chapter in my life alone as the fella of my dreams has...oh no....could it be.....comitment-phobia!!!! 3 years of dating, a pledge to support me while I pursue my PhD, then once I am 1 month into said PhD program I am notified that until I am financially stable and all around stable then I might (oh yippeee), just might get that little ring on my finger that I so do not deserve (according to the fella of my dreams) due to my recent status in poverty stricken student land.
Today I nailed the my most recent course, sailing through the program with nothing but A's on my roster thus far. I would celebrate, however I am worried there is no reason to celebrate as I probalby will not continue on in my program as I am having to re-plot my course, solo.
However I am letting certain things fuel my fire and inspire me to move on. 1) the recent photo I found that he took of his buddy and the 2 prostitutes they hired to sleep with while away on business. 2) Documentation of money spent on band equipment (note - fella of my dreams is 40 and still trying to become a rock-star, that's right folks, a 40 year old honkey tonk, bourbon swilling, denture wearing, bitch all day long, I'm a diva, give me all yer money cause I ain't sharin' rock star) while draining me of every meager penny that I have in order to support his fettish for shitty amps and scenester guitars.
3) finding out on the day my aunt died, the woman I am named after, a parapalegic whose hand I held as she left this earth - he ran up a hefty bar tab at a burlesque show and informed me he had to be away on "business" and could not be there for me in my time of mourning.
These are just the top 3. More later.....I am going to meet my co-blogger and partner in crime for drinks and hopefully better scenery than the rock-star posters I am surrounded by in the home I share with this fella of my dreams......
Food for thought.....I have some creative ideas for said picture of the prositute party I discoverred.....
Hell hath no fury folks, and I am a descendent of some mean motherfuckers........
So here I sit with my wine and my dog, plotting yet again another chapter in my life alone as the fella of my dreams has...oh no....could it be.....comitment-phobia!!!! 3 years of dating, a pledge to support me while I pursue my PhD, then once I am 1 month into said PhD program I am notified that until I am financially stable and all around stable then I might (oh yippeee), just might get that little ring on my finger that I so do not deserve (according to the fella of my dreams) due to my recent status in poverty stricken student land.
Today I nailed the my most recent course, sailing through the program with nothing but A's on my roster thus far. I would celebrate, however I am worried there is no reason to celebrate as I probalby will not continue on in my program as I am having to re-plot my course, solo.
However I am letting certain things fuel my fire and inspire me to move on. 1) the recent photo I found that he took of his buddy and the 2 prostitutes they hired to sleep with while away on business. 2) Documentation of money spent on band equipment (note - fella of my dreams is 40 and still trying to become a rock-star, that's right folks, a 40 year old honkey tonk, bourbon swilling, denture wearing, bitch all day long, I'm a diva, give me all yer money cause I ain't sharin' rock star) while draining me of every meager penny that I have in order to support his fettish for shitty amps and scenester guitars.
3) finding out on the day my aunt died, the woman I am named after, a parapalegic whose hand I held as she left this earth - he ran up a hefty bar tab at a burlesque show and informed me he had to be away on "business" and could not be there for me in my time of mourning.
These are just the top 3. More later.....I am going to meet my co-blogger and partner in crime for drinks and hopefully better scenery than the rock-star posters I am surrounded by in the home I share with this fella of my dreams......
Food for thought.....I have some creative ideas for said picture of the prositute party I discoverred.....
Hell hath no fury folks, and I am a descendent of some mean motherfuckers........
Hey Ma! A girl's gotta eat, Ma!
24 hours later, so much to write.
Yesterday, worked all day. Ironed some clothes for my week o'dates around 5:15. Got a call from the young Angus Barn guy around that time...
"Hey, are we on for tonite at 6:30?" he asked in a very sleepy voice. (Bad idea gnome is lurking around...)
"Yeah, didn't you get my email from this morning?"
"Uh (yawn) no the internet has been down here at the house..."
Honestly, the guy sounded like one of the many Chapel Hill guys I dated back in 1994. Yeah, you heard right, 1994. Bad idea gnome was skipping around my feet at that point. I began to think, maybe this guy isn't like 34...maybe he's 28. He sounds 22 on the phone right now. UGH!
I call Fun Girl. She says cut some slack and get out there and go on this date. I do need to get back on the horse, even if the horse is lazy and unambitious. A girl has gotta eat!!!
So I get all dolled up, and feel good about myself at that point. Unbelievable what showering everyday does for one's self esteem.
I should digress here. Guess where I am meeting him for said date? The Cheesecake Factory at Southpoint. Yeah. That's right. Amazing frickin' restaurants all over this metropolitan area, and he picks that. I hear you all laughing! I can hear RS2/Hotness laughing all the way from India!
So I head in the car to Cheese Factory. Once there, I sit at the bar and promptly order a vodka soda - I'm gonna need it. The bartender, who is a dead ringer for Turtle on Entourage, is very attentive. Sweet.
He shows up, about 5 minutes late. He's not as cute as I remember from the Wild Turkey Lounge. Is the lighting better there or something? He looks a bit dorky to me. He's got nice hair albeit a bit short for my taste. No grays, no receding hairline. He's about 6'2".
I don't think I'm gonna sleep with this one.
He looks a little bit like he should be in the military. I'm not really into this look. But I say, self, you gotta make a good go of this. There's many more to come. Practice run. Training camp for dating. This is your first scrimmage, hang in there. Be the ball...oops I digressed again, but honestly I was having to talk myself into this as it was happening.
So he sits, orders some fancy vodka martini, and he's clearly nervous. We talk, and I learn that he's 32 (oh thank god thank god he's not 28 or something like that) and he's not phased by my age in the least.
I don't think I am gonna sleep with this one.
He talks about what he does (he manages bar/restaurant in a very swanky hotel in Durham) and that he graduated from Carolina (nice) but that it took him eight years (rutrohraggy) and that he's very single (good) but the reason is he mostly hangs out with early twenty-somethings that think he's old (rutroh again) and he's really into (drumroll please):
Paintball.
Hmmm.
I don't think I am gonna sleep with this one.
But now, game on. I'm gonna make this date awesome, if only as practice for me being the most fabulous person I can be. I am way out of this guy's league, but scrimmage on girl! Call me haughty but its the truth. At least now I have the sense to recognize it.
Other great quotes?
Yesterday, worked all day. Ironed some clothes for my week o'dates around 5:15. Got a call from the young Angus Barn guy around that time...
"Hey, are we on for tonite at 6:30?" he asked in a very sleepy voice. (Bad idea gnome is lurking around...)
"Yeah, didn't you get my email from this morning?"
"Uh (yawn) no the internet has been down here at the house..."
Honestly, the guy sounded like one of the many Chapel Hill guys I dated back in 1994. Yeah, you heard right, 1994. Bad idea gnome was skipping around my feet at that point. I began to think, maybe this guy isn't like 34...maybe he's 28. He sounds 22 on the phone right now. UGH!
I call Fun Girl. She says cut some slack and get out there and go on this date. I do need to get back on the horse, even if the horse is lazy and unambitious. A girl has gotta eat!!!
So I get all dolled up, and feel good about myself at that point. Unbelievable what showering everyday does for one's self esteem.
I should digress here. Guess where I am meeting him for said date? The Cheesecake Factory at Southpoint. Yeah. That's right. Amazing frickin' restaurants all over this metropolitan area, and he picks that. I hear you all laughing! I can hear RS2/Hotness laughing all the way from India!
So I head in the car to Cheese Factory. Once there, I sit at the bar and promptly order a vodka soda - I'm gonna need it. The bartender, who is a dead ringer for Turtle on Entourage, is very attentive. Sweet.
He shows up, about 5 minutes late. He's not as cute as I remember from the Wild Turkey Lounge. Is the lighting better there or something? He looks a bit dorky to me. He's got nice hair albeit a bit short for my taste. No grays, no receding hairline. He's about 6'2".
I don't think I'm gonna sleep with this one.
He looks a little bit like he should be in the military. I'm not really into this look. But I say, self, you gotta make a good go of this. There's many more to come. Practice run. Training camp for dating. This is your first scrimmage, hang in there. Be the ball...oops I digressed again, but honestly I was having to talk myself into this as it was happening.
So he sits, orders some fancy vodka martini, and he's clearly nervous. We talk, and I learn that he's 32 (oh thank god thank god he's not 28 or something like that) and he's not phased by my age in the least.
I don't think I am gonna sleep with this one.
He talks about what he does (he manages bar/restaurant in a very swanky hotel in Durham) and that he graduated from Carolina (nice) but that it took him eight years (rutrohraggy) and that he's very single (good) but the reason is he mostly hangs out with early twenty-somethings that think he's old (rutroh again) and he's really into (drumroll please):
Paintball.
Hmmm.
I don't think I am gonna sleep with this one.
But now, game on. I'm gonna make this date awesome, if only as practice for me being the most fabulous person I can be. I am way out of this guy's league, but scrimmage on girl! Call me haughty but its the truth. At least now I have the sense to recognize it.
Other great quotes?
- I'm not really into travel - I kind of like it right here in NC
- I was so nervous about this date I forgot to put on deodorant so I had to go to Walmart on the way here. Seriously, I have a stick of right guard in my car!
- You have great teeth
- I don't really see my mom much, even though she lives in Raleigh
- I live in the apartment attached to my father's house (aaahhhoooga aahhhoooga warning warning danger danger Will Robinson)
Heard enough? Me too. He wanted to go to a movie. I said no. He wanted to take me out on Tuesday, I said no. He asked about the rest of the week. Nope! We tentatively set a date for next Monday.
Why? I don't know why...but I have a few days to cancel. I'm torn between a girl's gotta eat and this is frickin torture.
I don't think I am gonna sleep with this one.
He walks me to my car, gives me a kiss goodnight. First attempt was awful, awful! He knew it, and said, let's do that one more time. Second attempt far better. Nice. Hmmm. I like it.
I don't think I am gonna sleep with this one.
In spite of this, I leave the mall (ha!) in great spirits. As I drive home, I get a text from N, the ex, asking if I wanna have a drink.
Do I evah!
I meet up with him and his friends. Turns out he's had some drama. I tell him mine, he shares his. As pained as he is for his own situation, he's incredibly empathetic about mine. I try and apologize for not taking his advice last fall, and we have a long talk about how I was right not to, you have to get stuff out of your system on your own terms, etc.
I tell him about my date:
At first, he's like: You had a date and it ended at 9?
I was like: Dude, he took me to Cheesecake Factory. I wanted it to end at 8, honestly.
He's then like: What? and you went? How did you meet this guy?
I told him the Angus Barn story. His response? That's all it took to get a date with you? He bought your drink? You are worth more than this. Aim higher. Well said, N, well said.
We talk for 2-3 hours at Jackpot and Slim's and we both feel really good going home in spite of both our personal lives being in turmoil.
Tonite, date #2. Punk rock boy. This one will be fun - no matter what!
Monday, July 23, 2007
Finally, a cute match on eHarmony...
but he's a total shortie. Ugh. I feel a "close match" coming on...
Busy day at work here at mi casa and I'm babysitting a friend's daughter today as well (very very cool girl...this is fun for me) so I'll have to post later or tomorrow morning, post-date #1.
Busy day at work here at mi casa and I'm babysitting a friend's daughter today as well (very very cool girl...this is fun for me) so I'll have to post later or tomorrow morning, post-date #1.
Sunday, July 22, 2007
Such a good weekend...
with RS. We may not be able to imbibe like we used to, but we can still have fun. Thanks for being a pal and going with me.
I learned, on the way up to the Lake, that our friend out in CA has lightened her load, ahem, too and was out looking for apartments this weekend. Shout out to you! Thought of you all weekend, and we sent you a text. I think a girls weekend here in NC is now really in order - as if we didn't have enough reasons already - but adding you to the mix just makes it way too perfect. I know how much it hurts and I'm two weeks ahead of you but can tell you that everyday gets better.
I have my week o'dates coming up - starting tomorrow with the young guy who bought me the drink at Angus Barn. Yum. Tuesday I have another with a friend who I have known for awhile, and that one has me surprise excited (who knew?) It may be nothing, but the anticipation, at least, keeps me busy and positive. Wednesday I have drinks with friends/co-workers planned as well as a night on the town with Fun Girl and whatever other girls join us (Ad girl? Fall girl?)
Thursday I have scheduled an appearance at a party with the very cool woman who cleans my house. (Gosh she is so much fun while she is here cleaning, can't imagine what she's like when she's at a party.) Not sure how long that party is...I may stop in and then have drinks with a certain Ex (who I have wrote about in this blog) who tried desperately to warn me about this whole situation with Hags the Fag but I didn't quite take his advice. Shame on me.
Friday I leave town with Harley girl and meet Southern Gent for drinks.
Quote for the day:
I learned, on the way up to the Lake, that our friend out in CA has lightened her load, ahem, too and was out looking for apartments this weekend. Shout out to you! Thought of you all weekend, and we sent you a text. I think a girls weekend here in NC is now really in order - as if we didn't have enough reasons already - but adding you to the mix just makes it way too perfect. I know how much it hurts and I'm two weeks ahead of you but can tell you that everyday gets better.
I have my week o'dates coming up - starting tomorrow with the young guy who bought me the drink at Angus Barn. Yum. Tuesday I have another with a friend who I have known for awhile, and that one has me surprise excited (who knew?) It may be nothing, but the anticipation, at least, keeps me busy and positive. Wednesday I have drinks with friends/co-workers planned as well as a night on the town with Fun Girl and whatever other girls join us (Ad girl? Fall girl?)
Thursday I have scheduled an appearance at a party with the very cool woman who cleans my house. (Gosh she is so much fun while she is here cleaning, can't imagine what she's like when she's at a party.) Not sure how long that party is...I may stop in and then have drinks with a certain Ex (who I have wrote about in this blog) who tried desperately to warn me about this whole situation with Hags the Fag but I didn't quite take his advice. Shame on me.
Friday I leave town with Harley girl and meet Southern Gent for drinks.
Quote for the day:
I like my men like I like my coffee: Rich, warm and something in them that keeps me awake all night!
Friday, July 20, 2007
Hey there, Fun Girl
I am in anticipation of next week, when you are done with all those projects you have for school and we can resume some adventures with our favorite young girl in crime (let's call her Fall Girl b/c of her name.)
Trying to remind you, on the offchance you have a not so great weekend (I hope that is not the case...) that we have stuff to do (resumes on Sunday) and fun to have (starting with Tuesday? Wednesday? who knows what other night!) and life will get better for both of us. I'm off to the Lake for rest and relaxation with Rock Star and back to you on Sunday!
Trying to remind you, on the offchance you have a not so great weekend (I hope that is not the case...) that we have stuff to do (resumes on Sunday) and fun to have (starting with Tuesday? Wednesday? who knows what other night!) and life will get better for both of us. I'm off to the Lake for rest and relaxation with Rock Star and back to you on Sunday!
We'll climb that hill, no matter how big, when we get up to it.
- Bob Dylan (You Ain't Goin Nowhere)
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Girls, he's lacking a money shot
Yeah the title says it all.
No money shot at all. It just sort of dribbles out. There's a visual for all of you to laugh it.
I know I am.
And thanks, Ad Girl, for the company and the excellent conversation last evening. I always feel better after spending time with you, and you are doing wonders keeping me on track in recovery. I feel like I am emerging from Stockholm syndrome.
Have a great weekend with your sis and her new beau! Let's make plans for watching "Play it as it Lays" (http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0069098/) at the end of this month with a nice bottle of cava.
No money shot at all. It just sort of dribbles out. There's a visual for all of you to laugh it.
I know I am.
And thanks, Ad Girl, for the company and the excellent conversation last evening. I always feel better after spending time with you, and you are doing wonders keeping me on track in recovery. I feel like I am emerging from Stockholm syndrome.
Have a great weekend with your sis and her new beau! Let's make plans for watching "Play it as it Lays" (http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0069098/) at the end of this month with a nice bottle of cava.
It's good to be blogging again...
Today, I am good. My mood on MySpace was "thirsty" for awhile today b/c it seemed like the silliest listing on there. In reality I am a 7-8 on a scale of 10. I am filling up my social calendar and my friends are keeping me busy. I also signed up for eHarmony.
That is a story unto itself.
I bet some of you have done this. I signed up on the advice of several people - my ex husband being one of them. Why not? It is a good time waster for sure.
Most of my matches are all ten years older than me. WTF? They look like dorks. Holy crap some of these people have crossed eyes or look like Waldo. Where are all the normal looking people on those ads they run ALL NIGHT on Bravo or History Channel?
"You could be logging on right now and checking your matches?" Yeah, I could. But that would require getting out of bed and walking ten feet to pick up my laptop. I would rather marinate in my own funk and stay in the happy state of denial in bed, imagining the cuties waiting for me in my in box tomorrow morning. Gives a girl a sense of hope as she drifts off to sleep. Reality bites.
Did I mention the profiles yet?!
Omigod the profiles.
One guy said his passion was his looks and his walk. Hello, meatwad! His picture showed a redneck lookin', early forty-something with a circa 1996 goatee and a bottle of domestic beer in his hand. Budweiser, c'mon. Can't you be more original?
One guy, who claimed to be a retired CEO, spelled jacuzzi like this: jacusi. Wow - you read and approved your former proxy statements with that brain?
I could go on and on. As a result of this landscape, I have gotten particularly speedy at closing out matches. Misspelled word? Goatee? Under 5'9"? Mention of God ad nauseum or the phrase containing anything like Jesus is my hero/personal saviour/co-pilot/wing man/stunt double? Listing "cuddling" as a like? Fuhgeddaboutit. I'm closin' you out and picking random reasons why. My friend Harley girl recommended I be super picky - she says you can be if you are getting a good number of matches. Bytheway, she abandoned eHarmony after a few months b/c she had absolutely no luck.
I have gotten approximately 100 matches or so in 10 days. I have 6 open right now and I am not excited about a single one. It is just a game at this point. I have yet to get to the point where I actually have to talk to one of these guys. Can you say avoidance? Here I come, match.com!
That is a story unto itself.
I bet some of you have done this. I signed up on the advice of several people - my ex husband being one of them. Why not? It is a good time waster for sure.
Most of my matches are all ten years older than me. WTF? They look like dorks. Holy crap some of these people have crossed eyes or look like Waldo. Where are all the normal looking people on those ads they run ALL NIGHT on Bravo or History Channel?
"You could be logging on right now and checking your matches?" Yeah, I could. But that would require getting out of bed and walking ten feet to pick up my laptop. I would rather marinate in my own funk and stay in the happy state of denial in bed, imagining the cuties waiting for me in my in box tomorrow morning. Gives a girl a sense of hope as she drifts off to sleep. Reality bites.
Did I mention the profiles yet?!
Omigod the profiles.
One guy said his passion was his looks and his walk. Hello, meatwad! His picture showed a redneck lookin', early forty-something with a circa 1996 goatee and a bottle of domestic beer in his hand. Budweiser, c'mon. Can't you be more original?
One guy, who claimed to be a retired CEO, spelled jacuzzi like this: jacusi. Wow - you read and approved your former proxy statements with that brain?
I could go on and on. As a result of this landscape, I have gotten particularly speedy at closing out matches. Misspelled word? Goatee? Under 5'9"? Mention of God ad nauseum or the phrase containing anything like Jesus is my hero/personal saviour/co-pilot/wing man/stunt double? Listing "cuddling" as a like? Fuhgeddaboutit. I'm closin' you out and picking random reasons why. My friend Harley girl recommended I be super picky - she says you can be if you are getting a good number of matches. Bytheway, she abandoned eHarmony after a few months b/c she had absolutely no luck.
I have gotten approximately 100 matches or so in 10 days. I have 6 open right now and I am not excited about a single one. It is just a game at this point. I have yet to get to the point where I actually have to talk to one of these guys. Can you say avoidance? Here I come, match.com!
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
2 week summary o' fun
So far, its been little tears and pity save for the first 48 hours. I have some items to report:
Fun Girl and I are just, well, so much fun! together. We've gone out twice and both nights were the best I have had in months. Dancing. Flirting. Lots of attention. I forgot about this. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me for staying in that relationship so long.
We had a night at the Jackpot! that included a ton of dancing (rare for that bar in my past experience there) to PB&J Young Folks and then Michael Jackson's Beat It. Somehow it all worked, and the vibe was just so perfect. You couldn't manufacture that sort of fun, and none of the places on Glenwood South have that going for them. Raleigh Times was good if only for adoration. What an ego boost!
The funniest best night so far was the MOST unexpected. I met a work friend at the Angus Barn, a sweet woman who is lively and pretty and southern and very enthusiastic. She has loads of energy and its infectious - so I love to be around her. We had drinks. Commiserated over job losses, job gains, and my hearing loss on my right side. She set me up over the phone with a friend of hers - a guy she called a true southern gentleman - who she says is sweet and very generous and available as of two weeks ago and ohbytheway he's got a big ol mercedes and big ol boat. Sounds good - where do I sign up? I like mercedes better than ford contours anyday. He and I talk on the phone (let's call this guy SG - southern gent) and then my friend and I go to pay our bill.
The bartender explains that someone has bought my second drink.
"Who?" I ask, thinking its one of those pot-bellied, good ol boys to my left.
"Oh, he's dining downstairs..." replies the bartender, who just at that moment was looking very cute himself.
I explained that I wanted to thank my patron. The bartender said, "Oh I can find him."
So we wait. I truly expect a 50-something, corporate average joe. Maybe a Phil Mickelson type. What walks up just blows me away.
He's cute. He's mid thirties. He's got all his hair. He's got no dunlop belly. He's tall. He's fit. He's got an unbelievable smile. WOW. Not at all what I expected. Life is good.
I thank him, profusely. Tell him it made my night - how can I repay?
"Let me take you out..."
Nice. Done and Done. Two dates made within 10 minutes of each other. And this second one - oh yummy.
He did call yesterday, wanting to set up the date. I returned his call - we're now playing tag.
Fun Girl and I are just, well, so much fun! together. We've gone out twice and both nights were the best I have had in months. Dancing. Flirting. Lots of attention. I forgot about this. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me for staying in that relationship so long.
We had a night at the Jackpot! that included a ton of dancing (rare for that bar in my past experience there) to PB&J Young Folks and then Michael Jackson's Beat It. Somehow it all worked, and the vibe was just so perfect. You couldn't manufacture that sort of fun, and none of the places on Glenwood South have that going for them. Raleigh Times was good if only for adoration. What an ego boost!
The funniest best night so far was the MOST unexpected. I met a work friend at the Angus Barn, a sweet woman who is lively and pretty and southern and very enthusiastic. She has loads of energy and its infectious - so I love to be around her. We had drinks. Commiserated over job losses, job gains, and my hearing loss on my right side. She set me up over the phone with a friend of hers - a guy she called a true southern gentleman - who she says is sweet and very generous and available as of two weeks ago and ohbytheway he's got a big ol mercedes and big ol boat. Sounds good - where do I sign up? I like mercedes better than ford contours anyday. He and I talk on the phone (let's call this guy SG - southern gent) and then my friend and I go to pay our bill.
The bartender explains that someone has bought my second drink.
"Who?" I ask, thinking its one of those pot-bellied, good ol boys to my left.
"Oh, he's dining downstairs..." replies the bartender, who just at that moment was looking very cute himself.
I explained that I wanted to thank my patron. The bartender said, "Oh I can find him."
So we wait. I truly expect a 50-something, corporate average joe. Maybe a Phil Mickelson type. What walks up just blows me away.
He's cute. He's mid thirties. He's got all his hair. He's got no dunlop belly. He's tall. He's fit. He's got an unbelievable smile. WOW. Not at all what I expected. Life is good.
I thank him, profusely. Tell him it made my night - how can I repay?
"Let me take you out..."
Nice. Done and Done. Two dates made within 10 minutes of each other. And this second one - oh yummy.
He did call yesterday, wanting to set up the date. I returned his call - we're now playing tag.
The list of ridiculous things from he who should not be named
I actually have a guide to being dumped. Before you think that sounds pathetic, realize that it has sped up the process of me getting over Hags the Fag -old Hottie's new name- at what I would call a ridiculous pace. (That and my friends all acting as my own personal Dr. Fritz Fassbender...http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0059903/)
But I digress.
So I have followed the instructions in the book. First step is to cut off contact and most importantly, never ever contact him. Done and done. I've taken him out of my phone. I've blocked him from IM at work (we work at sister companies who still share an IM system but hopefully not for long) and from Yahoo! mail (bless you Yahoo! for easy functionality in this area.)
He still calls for stupid reasons, but he's the one doing it. I answer every tenth call or so. I think he's lame, and the more he calls for stupid reasons, the more unattractive and lame he gets.
So no calling. No getting drunk and calling. No texting. No getting drunk and texting. No stalking him on MySpace or Facebook or Friendster. All of my friends now get a ridiculous number of calls from me b/c instead of picking up the phone to call him, I call or text them.
I avoid places in Raleigh where he might be. No Glenwood South. It's cheesy as hell anyway and that's his stomping ground. He like 'em young and stupid. (One of the girls he dated has "Lifetime Movies" on her set of likes on MySpace. Who likes those? Who admits to that? Snooze. Have at it boy...they are all yours!) Fun girl and I have had some adventures in the past two weeks that involved places he would never go, mostly b/c he's just not cool enough to know about or get in.
And this has been good for me. The time away, with little to no contact, has put some things in perspective and made some random comments he's made come back to me, and I can now view him in a new, more realistic light. Mainly, I originally thought he was a prize but really, he's just one big cheeseball with good manners on the outside and a cruel, selfish streak on the inside. I guess I was slumming for the last 18 months.
Here's some stuff randomly listed, mostly for my own purpose (this blog is therapy too) and because the book advocates it actually WRITING IT DOWN so that it sinks in. So here goes:
But I digress.
So I have followed the instructions in the book. First step is to cut off contact and most importantly, never ever contact him. Done and done. I've taken him out of my phone. I've blocked him from IM at work (we work at sister companies who still share an IM system but hopefully not for long) and from Yahoo! mail (bless you Yahoo! for easy functionality in this area.)
He still calls for stupid reasons, but he's the one doing it. I answer every tenth call or so. I think he's lame, and the more he calls for stupid reasons, the more unattractive and lame he gets.
So no calling. No getting drunk and calling. No texting. No getting drunk and texting. No stalking him on MySpace or Facebook or Friendster. All of my friends now get a ridiculous number of calls from me b/c instead of picking up the phone to call him, I call or text them.
I avoid places in Raleigh where he might be. No Glenwood South. It's cheesy as hell anyway and that's his stomping ground. He like 'em young and stupid. (One of the girls he dated has "Lifetime Movies" on her set of likes on MySpace. Who likes those? Who admits to that? Snooze. Have at it boy...they are all yours!) Fun girl and I have had some adventures in the past two weeks that involved places he would never go, mostly b/c he's just not cool enough to know about or get in.
And this has been good for me. The time away, with little to no contact, has put some things in perspective and made some random comments he's made come back to me, and I can now view him in a new, more realistic light. Mainly, I originally thought he was a prize but really, he's just one big cheeseball with good manners on the outside and a cruel, selfish streak on the inside. I guess I was slumming for the last 18 months.
Here's some stuff randomly listed, mostly for my own purpose (this blog is therapy too) and because the book advocates it actually WRITING IT DOWN so that it sinks in. So here goes:
- "Oh, you like Jennifer Hudson b/c no matter how big you get, she will always be bigger than you..." (Huh? Honestly...who says shit like this?)
- "I hope you don't think my friends look down on you..." (Said randomly on the way to a BBQ...I would hope his friends' wouldn't considering that I've accomplished more, earn more, and actually own my own home - unlike him)
- "My mother likes you more than she likes me, mostly b/c you are a girl." (What?? Paging Dr. Freud...)
- Taking me ring shopping, twice (once at North Hills and once at Crabtree) , then pulling back saying we weren't ready, that we needed more time, that I was doubting his commitment. (Yeah I doubted it for sure at that point - did he think doing this was going to make me feel better?)
- "Bartenders only like you b/c you have breasts..."(But the ridiculous over-tipping, respect and friendly conversation put forth has no influence whatsoever???)
- Telling me that I was wrong to put limits on the relationship by saying this summer was going to be do or die for me, that I wasn't going to waste my time with a man who was clearly not ready to commit. (So somehow I was wrong for saying that, but the limit he put on it by putting the engagement on hold was okay? Huh? Goose-gander!)
- "Don't worry about your weight. I have a sickness for da thickness."
- "Pillsbury Dough Girl" (Andohbytheway, I am a size 2...you jackass!)
- He couldn't commit to anything in his life and here's the list of examples with his "opinions" in parentheses:
- Lasik surgery (Why do that now when my eyes will change in my late 40's? What do those doctor's know about the long term effects?)
- Car (The Infiniti G series doesn't have all the attributes I want, and until it does I am going to drive my POS, anti-gold digger machine ahem Ford Contour with the loud fan and the crappy stereo)
- House (Why buy a house when Raleigh is a really uncool place to live, full of boring, small minded people...I want to move to a city where I pay more for housing, and drive through more traffic, all so I can say I live in a big city and be cool. Also I like ignoring the advice that a home purchase has great tax advantages - what do finance/accountants/most of college-educated America know over me anyhow?)
- Phone (Just not sure what I want and I am super happy keeping this Atlanta number so my dorky exes and my ugly, Brett Farve-loving fuck buddy can keep in touch with me)
- Children (All I talk about is wanting to be a father but when faced with the decision, I just can't do it)
- Job (Hate my current job at crappy Chinese computer company and drive people crazy with my moodiness and haugtiness but I am too much of a fraidy-cat to leave)
So, folks, he's a pussy. And here's the list of things that my friends and acquaintances, most who know him on his own, say about him:
- Pussy
- Ass wipe
- THAT guy...he's THAT guy. Who knew he lived in Raleigh???
- Dickwit
- Idiot
- Social Moron (my personal favorite, said by several)
- Emotionally vacant
- Sociopathic
- Bi-polar (our cleaning woman said this one...love it)
- Cruel
- Cad
- Hags the Fag (because of his sexist viewpoint and blatant hero-worshipping of his male friends)
Ahhh I feel better already, don't you, dear readers? Catharsis. Evacuation of poison. It's all good.
No matter how good-looking or good in bed he is, someone somewhere is sick of his shit!
So... the last time I wrote, the Hottie had broken up with me. Well folks, everything old is new again and here I am, 7 months later, and he's done it again.
(One author's note: He hated this blog, and getting back together with him was the reason I gave it up. He said it was full of lies...I just reread the entire thing - posts going back to 2005 - which is a really good thing. This crap really happened! He didn't like it b/c it was a mirror back to him of his bad behaviour! This guy has been selfish from the start. Let's all remember the Pass the Altoid game reaction from fall 2005- apparently okay for him to be in a private room with a naked 22 year old but not for me to play what was an innocent kissing game with friends. Whatever. Sounds selfish even 18 months later.)
The difference is, after a large number of days of feeling really fucking sorry, really really fucking sorry for myself, and crying so hard I could almost vomit from the sadness, I realized that this is good. Let someone else deal with his shit. Shame on me for sticking it out despite the lack of respect and bad behaviour.
It hasn't been easy. Rock Star has been there with a catcher's mitt for me too many times to count in the last two weeks. So has her BF Vegas. RS2/Hotness returned briefly from her international assignment and fit me into her ridiculously hectic schedule. She didn't need to deal with my crap on top of everything else she has going on, but she did it anyway. I'm in awe. My other beautiful friend from Chapel Hill (we'll call her Fun Girl for now) has literally been babysitting me - and being the best advice giver I have ever known. My Ad Girl friend has made dinner, thrown a sangria party, and is coming over for dinner all within one week. I have 9-10 friends, both guys and girls, who are rallying around and it is not going unnoticed. I have the best friends in the world.
(And I realize that none of them liked him. Not one person. Even those who knew him separate from me. They put up with him b/c of me.)
Even my ex husband has even been a shoulder to cry on. He has been a wealth of wisdom and positiveness, especially since he does know me well and we were once actually married. His advice:
Where's that transit schedule??? Will this next bus be nicer, in better shape?
(One author's note: He hated this blog, and getting back together with him was the reason I gave it up. He said it was full of lies...I just reread the entire thing - posts going back to 2005 - which is a really good thing. This crap really happened! He didn't like it b/c it was a mirror back to him of his bad behaviour! This guy has been selfish from the start. Let's all remember the Pass the Altoid game reaction from fall 2005- apparently okay for him to be in a private room with a naked 22 year old but not for me to play what was an innocent kissing game with friends. Whatever. Sounds selfish even 18 months later.)
The difference is, after a large number of days of feeling really fucking sorry, really really fucking sorry for myself, and crying so hard I could almost vomit from the sadness, I realized that this is good. Let someone else deal with his shit. Shame on me for sticking it out despite the lack of respect and bad behaviour.
It hasn't been easy. Rock Star has been there with a catcher's mitt for me too many times to count in the last two weeks. So has her BF Vegas. RS2/Hotness returned briefly from her international assignment and fit me into her ridiculously hectic schedule. She didn't need to deal with my crap on top of everything else she has going on, but she did it anyway. I'm in awe. My other beautiful friend from Chapel Hill (we'll call her Fun Girl for now) has literally been babysitting me - and being the best advice giver I have ever known. My Ad Girl friend has made dinner, thrown a sangria party, and is coming over for dinner all within one week. I have 9-10 friends, both guys and girls, who are rallying around and it is not going unnoticed. I have the best friends in the world.
(And I realize that none of them liked him. Not one person. Even those who knew him separate from me. They put up with him b/c of me.)
Even my ex husband has even been a shoulder to cry on. He has been a wealth of wisdom and positiveness, especially since he does know me well and we were once actually married. His advice:
"Listen...men are like buses. When one pulls away, there's always another coming right down the road, ready to pick you up. Get on the wrong one, and who knows where you might end up..."
Where's that transit schedule??? Will this next bus be nicer, in better shape?
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